Illusion
by Ninjalara
Summary: After falling victim to one of Dr Chaplin’s experiments, Donatello finds himself torn between the worlds of fact and fiction. Can his brothers help him, or do they only become more of a hindrance? Completed!
1. The Solution

Disclaimer: I do not own the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles in any way, shape or form, nor do I make any money from these stories.

Author's Note: Well, it has finally happened. I'm writing a completely different genre using a completely different universe o.0!This fic is mainly set in the Fox Box version of the TMNT, however it refers to all previous universes as well. Also, it is set roughly around the events of Season 3. However, because of things entirely out of my control (bad TV programming, DVDs slowly being released), I actually haven't seen all of season 3 as of yet, so I do apologise in advance, though the plot of the season isn't the main focus of the fic anyway. This is rated T for its themes, violence and possible cursing. Originally this was going to be a one shot, but I thought it would be way too long, so I'm going to extend this into a multi-part story. This story will also be rather ambiguous.

Illusion

Chapter One: The Solution.

Illusion:

1. a) An erroneous perception of reality.

b) An erroneous concept or belief.

2. The condition of being deceived by a false perception or belief.

3. Something, such as a fantastic plan or desire, that causes an erroneous belief or perception.

He breathed in. He breathed out. Just simply enjoying the dormant state he was in. His eyes tingled with a dull ache as though it was too much of a strain to open them. Yet the click clack of leather shoes against a hard floor forced Donatello to rouse from his rather peaceful sleep. White. Everything was white. The turtle tried to sit up, only to realise that he was strapped down to a table that was specially designed for carrying out scientific examinations while also fulfilling the need to restrict the unfortunate patient.

The tired tingling, almost burning sensation in his eyes had practically disappeared as his body pumped itself full of adrenaline. Seeing Dr Chaplin advance towards him, Donatello started to panic, pulling against his thick leather restraints. Suddenly the faint memories of what had happened began to resurface in his mind. Don and his three brothers had tried to infiltrate the Shredder's lair, with Don being assigned to personally hacking into the security system's computer mainframe, though obviously not everything had gone to plan. Separated from his family because of his unique task, Donatello had found himself hopelessly surrounded and trapped before eventually succumbing to a round of sleeping gas. Now it seemed that he was at the mercy of Dr Chaplin, forcing Donatello to pray extremely hard that his brothers would rescue him soon.

"So I see that you're finally awake," Dr Chaplin stated the obvious while he excitedly rolled over a portable stainless-steel table that held many unusual medical tools. Usually Donatello would be thoroughly interested in the apparatuses that were laid out neatly on that shiny silver tabletop, but because of the dangerous position he was in, he could only stare at those little toys in fear. The turtle watched in horror as the red-haired scientist picked up and prepared a number of the medical 'weapons' with an almost painstaking slowness.

"What are you going to do to me?" Donatello mustered up the courage to ask once he had gulped down his intense fear.

"Aww, where's the fun if I just tell you?" Dr Chaplin answered back, his eyes still focused on preparing the apparatuses. Donatello shuddered, finding the young man's enthusiasm extremely creepy and disturbing. "But what I can say is that this is going to be awesome! I mean, I can't take all the credit. Dr Stockman came up with the blueprint of this plan. I just merely improved on the idea and played it all out," Dr Chaplin continued to speak as he finally distilled and created a clear coloured solution. Swirling around his new mixture in a flask, the scientist sterilised a few more items before eventually tipping the contents into a delicate glass vial. Popping on a lid, Chaplin vigorously shook the item for a few seconds, allowing the solution to bubble then settle once again. At last, to Donatello's dismay, Chaplin picked up a syringe and extracted the contents.

Squirting out just a few droplets of the solution just to get rid of any unintentional air bubbles, Dr Chaplin approached the strapped-down turtle. Donatello shuddered when he saw the cruel, yet almost playful smile upon the scientist's lips. As the distance between the two quickly closed, Donatello fearfully struggled against his restraints, quickly edging away from the man as far as the leather straps would allow. Don's whole body jumped when Dr Chaplin grabbed his hand. With just an excited grin on his face, the man yanked the limb closer to himself so he could inject the solution more cleanly into the mutant. Donatello's eyes widened in terror as the syringe was emptied. As the contents oozed into his circulatory system, the turtle's vision grew brighter and brighter, almost startling him with how white everything seemed. Then, as though nothing had really changed, Don's vision slowly returned to normal. Suddenly it was all over as Chaplin withdrew the needle.

Observing Donatello's expression, Chaplin couldn't help but laugh. "Don't be so scared! There's plenty more of these to come, so you'll get used to all the injections soon," Chaplin made a lousy attempt in calming his subject.

"What did you do to me?" Donatello panicked, eyes darting around as he looked over his own body, hoping that he couldn't see anything strange or unusual.

"It was just a preparation fluid," Dr Chaplin said as he started to pack away a few pieces of equipment. Obviously the scientist wasn't going to reveal much more, but thankfully because Shredder's employees tended to have a bad habit of boasting, Don was able to obtain a little bit more information than what was allowed.

"Preparation for what? Cloning?" Don asked, still panicking.

"Cloning?" Dr Chaplin replied. "What a novel idea! But no, we're not cloning," the man said.

There was a glint of silver and red as an object spun through the air. With a loud thunk, Dr Chaplin sank to the ground. The single heavy sai that had connected with the back of the man's head also clattered to the floor. Donatello sighed with relief as his three brothers emerged one by one from an air vent. "Donny! You're okay!" Michelangelo and Raphael called out simultaneously. Donatello couldn't stop grinning.

"What happened?" Leonardo was quick to assess the situation.

"Dr Chaplin injected me with something," Don informed his family members.

"You alright?" Leo asked, extremely concerned. Raph and Mike made short work of the leather straps, swiftly unbuckling, untying or cutting through them. As soon as he was able to, Don immediately sat upright and inspected his punctured arm.

"I think I'm fine. I have no idea what he injected me with though," Don mumbled, admitting that he couldn't sense any of the typical side effects such as nausea, lightheadedness or lethargy.

"I don't like this one bit, Leo," Raphael growled as he retrieved the sai he had thrown at Chaplin.

"Me neither," their leader murmured to himself.

"Did you get the information? The disks with all the blueprints on it?" Don questioned.

"Yes. We were just about to leave, so we tried to contact you using your Shell Cell, and that's when we found out that something must have happened to you," Leonardo informed his brother.

"Guys… Can we get out of here? This place is giving me the creeps!" Mike muttered, shuddering when he spotted all of the scary medical tools on Chaplin's portable workbench.

"Tell me about it," Don muttered, his mind still constantly thinking about what he could have been injected with.

"We've got what we came for. Let's retreat," Leo ordered. None of the turtles had to be told twice. Within a few seconds, they had disappeared, leaving the unconscious form of Dr Chaplin behind on the floor.

* * *

Donatello stifled a yawn as his fingers clacked over the keyboard. He clicked his computer mouse a few times before stopping his research entirely. Don just couldn't focus. Although the lair was eerily quiet for that time of night, Donatello still failed to concentrate on his work.

For the past few hours, Don had scanned through the disks they had gathered at Shredder's Headquarters. The turtles were hoping to gain insight as to why the enemy was so interested in the alien technology that littered the streets of New York, wishing to even just take a glance at their overall master plan. Yet it wasn't that simple. Things were never that easy. The CD-ROM disks were crammed with multiple firewall programs and security passwords, that Donatello, even with the help of April and Leatherhead, could only hack through only a minor amount of the barriers. Eventually they would crack the coding; it was only a matter of time. However that wasn't why Donatello was losing his focus.

As soon as the turtles had arrived back at the lair, Donatello immediately gave himself a blood test. Inviting Leatherhead over to their home, Don started work on the disks hopefully containing all the information they needed, while the alligator analysed the turtle's blood sample. Within the hour it had been announced that the results were inconclusive – nothing odd could be detected in Donatello's blood. Finding it too early to go back to his separate home, Leatherhead stayed by Don's side, and, with the help of April who had logged on over the Internet, the three of them started working their hardest on the Shredder's highly classified disks. Yet Don's mind couldn't stop thinking about what Dr Chaplin had done to him. What was injected into his blood stream? Was it really nothing, or was it something they that had missed or overlooked? Could the liquefied solution be effecting him right at that very moment, slowly taking over his body?

"You okay, Don?" Leonardo asked out of politeness as he approached the two reptiles sitting at Donatello's workbench.

"I think so…" Don muttered, still taking a break from his work. Leatherhead looked over at his friend, also noticing that the turtle wasn't acting as rapt up in his job like he usually was.

"Are you still worried about Dr Chaplin's injection?" Leatherhead wondered. Donatello sighed.

"It can't just be nothing… Surely there was something in that liquid!" Don exclaimed, becoming rather frustrated.

"Donny… maybe you should call it a night…" Leo suggested.

"No. I should keep working on this," Don remained stubborn.

"Donatello, your brother's right. April and I can continue to work on this," the alligator agreed with Leo.

"It's not as though you have to solve it tonight. The disks can just as easily be cracked tomorrow morning," Leonardo continued to urge his brother to go to bed. Sighing once again, Don looked around the quiet lair and couldn't help but admit that the vast space and solitude did make the idea of sleep rather enticing. He didn't notice it before, but from the lack of noise, Don was able to conclude that Raph and Mike had already gone to bed, probably too tired from their mission to stay up later than needed.

"Alright," Don reluctantly gave in to brother's demands.

"Get some rest," Leo quietly said as he watched the turtle tiredly trudge to his bedroom.

* * *

"Gooooood morning, Donny!" Michelangelo over-enthusiastically greeted, drawing out his words in order to convey his cheerful disposition. Donatello welcomed the turtle with a quick smile, though he didn't move from his seat at the dining table.

"Morning," Don greeted, though his words definitely lacked the excitement that was heard in his brother's voice. Mike didn't seem to notice Don's lack of enthusiasm as he instead focused his mind on what he was going to eat for breakfast. Donatello watched silently as Mike whipped out a bowl and a box full of cereal. Sniffing the milk to make sure that it hadn't gone out of date, Mike sloshed the white contents of the carton onto his crispy flakes of rice and sultanas. Before he even had a chance to sit down, Mike had already dug his spoon into his cereal, haphazardly bouncing towards the table in order to eat breakfast with his brother.

With his head resting on one hand, Don used his other hand to mindlessly spin his spoon around in his three-fingered grip, not really becoming bothered that his cereal was getting more and more soggy the more time he wasted. After cramming a spoonful of food into his mouth, Mike looked up and stared at his brother while he noisily crunched on his morning meal. "Something wrong?" Mike asked, causing a few snippets of cereal to spring out of his overloaded mouth.

"It's nothing. Really," Don murmured before slowly swallowing another spoonful of his meal.

"Tell me," Mike persisted. He watched as Don started to absentmindedly twirl his spoon around in his hand again.

"Well… have you ever had a human dream?" Don wondered, already knowing that the subject matter was particularly silly.

"Human dream? What, like you are a human? Or humans are in it?" Mike was slightly confused.

"Ones where you end up being a human," Don clarified.

"Yeah. I get them all the time."

"Really?"

"Did you have one of those last night?" Michelangelo wondered.

"I think so."

"I love human dreams. I get to do heaps of cool stuff. Go to the beach, hang out at the mall, spend time with chicks…" Mike winked when he mentioned the last scenario.

"…Mine wasn't exactly like that…" Don desperately wanted to describe what he had experienced. "…I wasn't anywhere fun… I think I was in some kind of observational research facility," Don said, shuddering as he completed his sentence.

"You know, Leo said that he once read a book about dreams. He told me that dreams just combine all your problems that you faced recently, so that you can deal with the aftermath or prepare yourself better. I mean, you were stuck in Chaplin's lab for a while yesterday. I bet that experience just slipped into your dream," Mike shrugged as he dug his spoon into the sloppy mass of his cereal once again.

"Maybe," Don murmured.

"Leo also said that everyone in their lifetime experiences a dream where your teeth fall out, or you're either flying, falling, chasing or being chased. I bet that dream where we're human are just like those types of dreams… Just really common," Michelangelo surmised before sucking in another mouthful of food.

"It just seemed so real…" Don practically whispered.

"What dream doesn't?" Mike asked. "Anyway, don't worry about. It's not as though it'll ever come true," the orange-wearing turtle lightheartedly added. Don gave his brother a weak smile before finally finishing off the last remnants of his breakfast.

* * *

Donatello groaned as another password protected security bulletin popped up on his computer screen. He had made progress, though the task of hacking the classified information disks seemed endless. Just like the previous night, Donatello couldn't stop thinking about what on earth he had been injected with. The mystery just seemed to rot his brain, preventing him from completing any other necessary task. After working on the computer for most of the previous night, Leatherhead had returned to his separate lair in order to get some much-needed rest. April was also occupied as she was selling items from her antique store since it was the peak time for curious customers. So for the past few hours over lunch time, Don had to painstakingly work by himself. Eventually it all became too much for him.

"Leo?" Don called his brother over. Obeying his outcry for attention, Leonardo stopped practicing his katas and focused his undivided attention on Donatello.

"What is it?" Leo asked, wondering if his interruption had anything to do with the disks.

"Can I just spar with you for a few minutes?" Don asked.

"Yeah, sure. Is anything the matter?" Leo wondered, knowing that it was slightly unusual for any of his fellow turtles to volunteer for additional ninjitsu training.

"Just need to get my mind off things for a few minutes. Need a break," Donatello admitted. Leo simply nodded his head and waited while Don retrieved his bo. Without saying any more words, both turtles stepped out into the center of their lair and stood beside the rippling pool of water that housed their mini-submarine. Even though he had been living there for months, Don still hadn't gotten completely used to their new home. Their old lair was more secluded and intimate, while now it seemed that they had too much space, making training seem rather intimidating considering that anyone else could watch from the sides or even up above. However, no matter how uncomfortable he seemed about the situation, Don knew that he just had to get his mind focused on something different rather than the computerised facts, figures and that awful liquefied mixture that had him worried for most of the day. He figured he would lose the match against Leo, but he still desired that energetic and fulfilling rush of adrenaline as though it would remind him how to feel active and alive again.

After seeing Leonardo give a little nod, the turtles burst straight into the fray, clashing weapons instantly. They bounced off each other's attacks, parrying and circling each other, just waiting for an opening to be taken advantage of. Usually Leo was the one who would hang back, but today he surprised his brother by taking the offensive, leaping forward and striking with both expert speed and precision. Naturally Leonardo's attacks were extremely controlled, as after all, he didn't want to injure Donatello or end up breaking the bo in two. Yet despite the fact that Leo was somewhat holding back, Donatello still found it hard to keep up with his fluid leader's attacks.

Suddenly Leonardo performed a tricky stunt, flipping over Donatello so he could strike from the back. Don was lucky enough to blindly block Leo's first hit, but he quickly copped his brother's retaliation. Being kicked in the carapace, Donatello naturally stumbled forward from the force… but something didn't seem right. Don felt like his vision flickered. His entire body shuddered, and while he tried his best to recover from Leo's direct hit, Don found himself unable to control his own body.

Leonardo looked on in horror as Donatello fell to the floor; his muscles locked in spasm. "Master Splinter!" Leo immediately cried out for help, knowing that something was seriously wrong. Even though he had only called out one name, Raphael and Michelangelo arrived on the scene within an instant as well. None of them really knew how to react; Donatello was usually the one who had all the answers. They all continued to look on in terror as Donatello entered a seizure before finally blacking out entirely.

To be continued…


	2. The Condition

Author's Note: I'd just like to thank Cynlee for helping me with this fic and answering all my annoying questions about the various TMNT versions. ;) Thanks once again.

Chapter Two: The Condition.

Donatello gasped in shock, shaking his body out of unconsciousness. His eyes snapped open, his mind whirled with confusion, trying to gain some bearings. Don felt like he had only been knocked out for an instant – the panic and adrenaline were still racing around his body. Yet that was the reason why he was so incredibly baffled. His eyes darted around the room his was in, causing Donatello to quickly realise that minutes, possibly hours must have passed, as he couldn't recognise his surroundings at all. Registering that thought, Don really began to freak out. Where was he? It definitely wasn't any place located within their sewer lair. More importantly, where were his brothers?

Calming down only slightly so that his more rational thoughts could finally push their way into his brain, Don started to properly observe his surroundings. The first thing he noticed was how comfortable the floor was. It was cushioned and gray, however it was firmer than the white walls. That was when it dawned on him. He was sitting in a corner of a padded cell. Looking to his left, out towards the center of the room, only one item occupied the empty space; a single sized bed complete with leather straps. Donatello's eyes widened at the sight, clasping a hand over his mouth in order to physically stop himself from making any involuntary sounds. However, Donatello could never prepare himself for what he discovered next.

Five fingers. There were five _human_ fingers on his _human_ hand. Moving his hand away from his mouth, Donatello started to breathe rapidly. The panicking feeling that he had experienced before was quickly returning. Stunned, Don noted his ten toes. It was just like his dream. He bit his lip, closed his eyes, just wishing the nightmare away. When he opened them again, nothing had changed. Don pinched himself, then slapped. He was still there.

Donatello started to cry out, just wanting any form of attention whether it was from his family or an enemy. He struggled to his feet, though he soon discovered that he needed to lean against the wall in order to balance himself. His legs trembled under his weight, feeling weak and quite lethargic, as though he hadn't used them in a few days, possibly weeks. Striving to stay upright, Donatello once again looked over his human body. It was all too much for him. Don started to scream hysterically, shuddering and moving back into the corner of the padded cell. There was no other explanation; either it was all real, or it was a dream that he couldn't escape from. His fingers started to feel slightly clammy while his vision began to darken. Don gasped, knowing that he was going into shock. Finally he saw a familiar face staring at him through the cell door's little window.

With an extremely worried expression on her face, April unlocked the door and ran straight over to the panicking human. "Danny! Danny, are you alright?" April questioned. Her hands grabbed Donatello's shoulders before gently pushing him back down to the floor, just hoping that the man wouldn't faint on her. Don was just relieved to see someone else.

"April! April, what's going on?" Donatello shakily asked. "I'm, I'm human!" Don shuddered, sitting in the corner, staring wildly at his unusual hands.

"It's okay, it's okay," April tried her best to calm him down. The woman withdrew a small flashlight from her lab coat pocket before shining the tiny light in Don's eyes.

"What are you doing? April, where am I? Where's Leo?" Donatello continued to panic, getting worried by April's unusual actions.

"Leo's not here," the woman stated simply.

"I must be dreaming…" Don muttered, more to himself than to April.

"No… Actually, it's more like you just woke up," April said, responding to Donatello's babbles.

"Woke up? April, what are you talking about? I'm human! This isn't real! …It can't be real!" Don denied, vigorously shaking his head as though he would suddenly snap out of the horrible nightmare. "…This must have to do with that injection…" Don muttered, trying his best to make sense of the situation. April, meanwhile, started to check his heart rate.

"The injection? Of course it's to do with that injection. That stimulant is the reason why you're awake now, Danny," April explained, almost humouring and belittling him with her tone of voice. Donatello frowned at her answer. Finally taking his focus elsewhere, Don realised that April was wearing a lab coat. Her name was printed as a shiny golden badge, pinned to one of her breast pockets. Her hair wasn't the colour it usually was, however while it was obvious that April was a natural redhead, it looked like she was ashamed of that fact and tried to dye it a number of other colours over her lifetime, leaving remnants of her past experiences behind in streaks and left over pieces that hadn't faded or grown out yet. Looking at what she was doing, Donatello started to shy away from April's rather intrusive inspection.

"April?" Don uttered. "Stop touching me and tell me what's happening already!" The man demanded, suddenly snapping.

"Danny, it's okay! Just calm down a little bit…"

"Calm down?" Donatello was hysterical. "And why do you keep calling me that?"

"Calling you what?"

"Danny!"

"Because that's your name," April answered simply. Donatello was taken aback by her statement. So overwhelmed by all the confusion, a few tears started to swell up in Don's eyes.

"My name's Donatello," Don croaked, not knowing why one of his best friends had suddenly forgotten such an important detail. April sighed and stared at his face. Looking into her eyes as well, Don discovered that the woman wasn't angry, concerned or even complacent. Rather, April just seemed tired, as though she was sick of repeating herself.

"You really don't remember, do you?" April asked softly though her words remained firm.

"Remember what?" Don wondered. April just sighed in response.

Donatello simply felt numb as the next few minutes scooted by. April had called in a few interns before leaving the room herself. As the assistants helped him to stand up, Donatello couldn't shake the feeling that he recognised some of the people. He could have sworn that some of the interns were Purple Dragon members, yet Don tried his best to shrug the nagging feeling away, just convincing himself that he was wrong, especially when he hadn't seen those flunkies in ages and could simply be mistaken. After all, it made no sense whatsoever for April to be working with the Purple Dragons. Then again… nothing did seem to make sense.

Donatello didn't say a word as he was gently led out of his room and down a corridor. Staring around at his environment, Don instantly guessed he was in that observational research facility he had dreamed about previously. Yet as he walked past other rooms containing padded cells, Don started to think that maybe he wasn't in a lab as such, but rather a mental institution, which obviously sent billions of questions circling around his mind in a matter of seconds. After understandably pondering his own sanity, Don was about to enter another bout of hysterics when suddenly he was taken inside an office. April was already inside waiting for him. "Please have a seat," April invited with a warm smile, gesturing towards a chair situated on the opposite side of her desk. As Donatello warily stepped forwards, his weak legs suddenly gave way, causing him to plunk down onto the seat instead of sitting more gracefully. Seeing that everything was alright, the interns stepped out of the room but still remained close by obviously for protection. But who or what were they guarding? Don's whole body shook, becoming rather frightened by his own lack of understanding.

Still seeking answers, Don stared at April. It was a simple office with a large window, and judging by the view, Don guessed he was on the third or fourth floor. The furnishings were rather plain - a pot plant in the corner; a filing cabinet on the side; a big mahogany desk with two chairs either side in the center; while cheap paintings (which Donatello thought were rather kitsch) and diplomas were strewn stereotypically across the back wall. The man furrowed his eyebrows when he read some of April's qualifications. _'…I didn't know April had a Masters in psychology…' _Don couldn't help but think to himself.

Donatello remained silence as he watched April pull out a manila folder that was almost bursting with sheets of paper. "…April?" Don timidly asked.

"Hmm," she hummed, focusing all of her attention on the file as she casually flicked through the sheets.

"…Do you have a mirror?"

"Yeah, sure!" April obliged. Forgetting the folder for a second, she leaned to one side, fished through her purse, before pulling out a little mirror that was obviously intended to be used when applying makeup. All of a sudden her expression turned serious. "I hope you're ready for this," April stated grimly as she questioningly handed the man the small reflective object. Donatello instantly gasped. He didn't know what shocked him more, the fact he looked Japanese-American, or that he wasn't exactly a teenager. Just judging by his appearance, Don guessed that he was at the very least in his late twenties, though he knew it would be more around the thirty to forty year old mark. Taking a closer look, Don noted that his teeth were a dull yellow colour while his black hair was scruffy and uncombed, basically making him realise that he needed to take better care of himself. Slightly troubled by what he saw, Donatello timidly leaned forward and placed the mirror reflective-side down onto the desk, so that he wouldn't have to view himself again.

"What happened to me?" Don whispered, still rather shocked about the whole situation. April sighed, finally lifting her eyes away from the large confines of all the paperwork.

Even though she knew he was referring to other events, April exhaustedly knew that she would have to explain things from scratch once again. "Simply put, you're schizophrenic," she said rather frankly, giving Don the impression that he should have already known that little fact.

"What?" Donatello exclaimed. "Schizophrenic?"

"It's quite an interesting case of schizophrenia as well. You have quite a history," April added, tapping Donatello's obese medical file with one of her fingers, displaying just how complex his condition was.

"No! This, this can't be!" Don said in disbelief. "April, what about that injection Dr Chaplin gave me? You know the one I told you about?" he started to ramble, still trying to find a plausible solution for everything that had happened to him.

"Dr Chaplin? …Interesting," April murmured with a raised eyebrow, quickly jotting something down in her notes.

"What! What's interesting?" Donatello was getting frustrated.

"Well, Dr Chaplin is one of the new scientists that has been hired. He's only been working here for about a month… and it's amazing that you've incorporated him already!" April remarked. Don gave her a deeply confused look. "You're really missing the point, aren't you?" April asked, using her belittling tone once again.

"What point?"

April sighed. "This is not the first time I've told you this. You've heard the story about your mental problems before, numerous times… but I guess nothing is really sticking, is it?" April said rhetorically.

"April… what are you talking about?" Donatello asked very slowly, now being fairly suspicious.

April casually flicked through the documents once again. "I'm talking about your mental condition. Danny… you're not a turtle. Your brothers, Splinter, Shredder," April glanced down at the papers, trying to find more examples. "…Leatherhead, Ninjara, you get the idea. None of them exist. It's all just part of this fantasy world you have created," the woman bluntly summarised.

"…This doesn't make any sense…" Don mumbled.

"That's what you always say," April muttered to herself.

"But… you said none of them exist. Then how come you're real? …And who on earth is Ninjara?" Donatello wondered, taking on a rather angry tone.

"The reason why your case is so difficult to treat is because you incorporate people from real life into your fantasy. In the end, you perfectly blend both reality and fiction and create something that stands in-between," April summarised.

"So my brothers aren't real?" Donatello couldn't believe the words that were being uttered from April's lips.

"No. You don't have any brothers."

"What? So I just made them up?" Donatello argued, still not accepting the woman's story. "They can't be fake! Why would I dream up something like that?"

"To be honest, we're not really sure. Some of the other scientists studying your case suggest that you invented your three brothers because you desired the need for people to relate to you. However, I personally believe that your brothers are simply just different fragments of yourself. You see, as a teenager, you were a bright, intelligent young man who wanted to be recognised. That's why we feel that you envisioned or rather fantasised about being a super-hero. Yet you were also quite a shy boy, which is probably why you chose to dream about being a mutant, so that you could be unique, a hero and a recluse at the same time. Natually there was a problem with your fantasy, as while you enjoyed daydreaming about your ideas for inventions, what I believe is that eventually your mind became bored, or rather repressed, as your other emotions such as anger and happiness weren't released as part of your mind's character. So you started to create a support network for your ultimate pseudonym; a set of brothers that could both endorse your envisioned livelihood, while also allowing your mind to exert its other emotions. That was probably when things became critical. Early on you also designed a father figure, Splinter, which probably originated from your desire to have a kind and understanding dad. Your mind then just kept on creating new people, new places, non-existent problems and even enemies. Eventually you had set up a whole other world, and by then your condition had grown so complex that you really became lost within your own mind," April retold the story.

"So if it's so difficult, then why aren't I on any medication? I've read that a lot of schizophrenics can recover just from popping a few pills," Donatello heavily criticised, not giving her the benefit of the doubt.

"Oh trust me, you are. We've been giving you injections and tablets for years as part of your treatment. It may not seem like it to you, but they work. You always come out of your fantasy. Though for some reason, once you finally become part of this world again, the medication seems to stop taking effect, and eventually your mental condition worsens again," April calmly explained the problem her and the other scientists faced.

"Well if all this is true, then how come I don't remember any of this?" Donatello continued to debate.

"Danny, please don't get angry with me. I'm only trying to help you," April said, giving him a little frown. Donatello looked away and fell silent, not really knowing what to think anymore. His gut instinct instructed him not to believe a word the woman said, and yet underneath everything there was this burning curiosity to hear and learn more. If everything in his world was fake, then what was out there? His indecision on what to believe caused Donatello to visibly shake all over. He brought his ill-kept, chipped fingernails to his teeth and proceeded to bite them, initiating a habit he didn't even know he had.

April gave the man a sorrowful look, just knowing how difficult it was for him to make the adjustment. She kept going anyway, figuring that it was best for him to hear everything first, even though it may come as a giant shock to his system. "As for your question… that is the exact reason why your condition is so unique. You have the ability to… I suppose, 'reset' your fantasy world."

"Reset?" Don only became more and more confused, but wanted to hear more nevertheless.

"You can wipe things from your memory; repress it so badly that it basically becomes forgotten entirely. Some things remain, but a lot of the finer details are lost."

"…What finer details?" Don dared to ask. April simply sighed once again.

"I guess I should really start from the beginning," the female admitted. Don watched as April flipped the enormous folder to the front. He continued to stare at her as she slowly glanced through his entire file, flicking through the pages as she went along. "We suspect that your schizophrenia started upon the onset of puberty. You had a lot of problems in your life, so when you first imagined this other world that you mentally escaped to, it was filled with angst and was fairly dark, mainly because you tried to deal with the issues that were effecting you in real life. You were admitted to this institution, and after some in-depth treatment, you finally snapped out of it. Thinking you were fine, you were released and eventually taken off the medication," April started her story. Her expression became solemn.

"But you hadn't completely forgotten the other world. Taking just the basic people you had imagined the first time, you wiped the slate clean and proceeded to start again, this time unknowingly making your world more light-hearted; an attitude which you subconsciously felt your original fantasy lacked. This was when we discovered how serious your condition really was. You were in a catatonic state for most of your teenage years, just completely static as you daydreamed away, only occasionally moving around when you entered a more interactive state of mind; talking to yourself, moving in conjunction with what you thought you saw. We tried to help you, but you just simply incorporated the psychiatric ward staff into your hallucination," April summarised, still flicking through the many pages of observation notes.

"You eventually pulled through and you came back to us again. Yet it wasn't long till you went backwards, scrapping your fantasy and altering it once more. But this time I think you remembered the truth of your condition. Your body had become very weak from being underused, so subconsciously your brain wanted you to get healthy again. So what happened was that you inadvertently made the conclusion that if there was nothing for you to return to in your dream world, then you would start being able to tell what was reality and what was fantasy. So you attacked the beings that you held dear the most; chopping off one of your brother's hands, and poking out the eye of another. You even attempted to give your envisioned character, Donatello, a heroic end; battling in a helicopter before plummeting to your death. But that's the problem. Your fantasy is so complex that even when your imaginary friendship safety network breaks down, there's always a loophole. This time you quickly improvised a solution by continuing to live through combining your body with a cyborg," April said.

"The next instance was when things really became interesting from a scientific point of view. You started off your fantasy again, keeping your main, basic network of familial relationships, yet this time you inserted and rewrote your entire imagined history by inserting a female, sister-like persona. But that caused a few problems, didn't it?" April rhetorically asked, looking up from all the paperwork. "We suspect that you designed her, Venus I think you called her, out of your own feelings of loneliness. However you couldn't decide where she fitted amongst the rest of your emotions, that is, your brothers. Eventually you grew sick of the idea of wanting any romantic company, so you fought and internally struggled with this character you had invented. In the end, you completely scrapped the idea, wiped her from your memory, then started afresh, adopting your original angst-ridden hallucination and worked your way from there. Again you tried to rid yourself from this imaginary world; destroying your entire family and your main enemies, leaving only yourself and what you had incorporated from me. Yet once again there was a loophole - you didn't snap out of your catatonic state, blaming everything instead on an alternative futuristic dimension," April concluded her long tale, finally flicking through to the end of Donatello's medical file.

"This can't be true! I would never intentionally hurt my family," Donatello protested, quite shocked by everything he had heard.

"You don't. That's the beauty of it. As I said, there always seems to be a loophole that prevents you from waking back up from your hallucination. Usually you blame it as something to do with time travel, nightmares, alternative dimensions, and other weird anomalies. There's always something to pull you back, whether it's a message one of your brothers have sent to you through meditation, a magical spell, or the threat of your imaginary enemies where you have unfinished business to attend to. And when things don't go to plan, you just simply wipe your memory and start again. There's no end to it. I know I should keep a positive outlook, but honestly I feel that your condition will just demise once again, as you'll make up some reason, no matter how unbelievable it is; just anything that will convince you to return to your fantasy," April muttered, displaying how disheartened she had become with Donatello's case.

"…So I've been like this for years? …How old am I?" Don timidly asked.

"Thirty-four," April said. Donatello held his breath for a moment just to digest that fact.

"How can I trust you? How do I know that you're telling me the truth?" Don warily asked, still skeptical.

"Well trusting people isn't exactly a schizophrenic's most prized attribute," April cynically replied. Donatello looked at his hands once again, shaking involuntarily as he thought over everything he had listened to.

"I heard that he finally woke up. I had to see it for myself in order to believe it," another psychologist said as he walked into April O'Neil's office. Noticing the other doctor, Donatello let out a surprised, terrified yelp, causing him to fall off his chair.

"Danny!" April called out in fright, worried that the man might have hurt himself. Donatello, although physically weak, started to scramble away, eyes locked onto the intruder. It was Baxter Stockman. Yet the mad scientist wasn't a brain in a jar, nor was he a giant block of walking metal with a holographic head. Instead, Stockman was flesh and bone with no abnormalities or faults. "Danny, it's alright!" April tried to calm Don down, rushing to his side as an attempt to comfort him.

"April! That's Stockman! Stockman!" Don cried out, becoming hysterical.

"Danny, it's okay!" April repeated, raising her voice over his panicking calls. "You incorporated him into your fantasy, remember? He's not who you think he is," the woman explained.

"But he's evil!"

"He's not!" April yelled.

"She's right, Danny. I'm not here to harm you," Stockman said, stepping forward. Donatello scrambled back another few feet. Stockman sighed. "Maybe I shouldn't be here right now."

"He can't cope with everything all at once. It might be best if you talk to him later," April advised her coworker. Stockman nodded before taking his leave, realising that it was too soon to be seeing, let alone speaking to Donatello, especially when Don had perceived and incorporated the scientist into his fantasy, playing the role of an enemy.

"I think it might be best if we took you back to your room," April suggested, giving the Japanese-American man a gentle, kind smile. "We'll call your father to tell him that you've finally woken up. Hopefully he'll be able to visit you soon."

"My father?" Don questioned, suddenly wondering what other relatives he had in this weird, clinical world.

"But we'll worry about that later," April said, before grunting in effort as she helped Donatello back into his seat in front of her desk. "Right now it's time to take your medication. Since you're active, we can start you back on some more of the pills; you never were a fan of needles," April commented before walking towards the doorway of her office, poking her head out into the corridor and asking an intern a favour. Walking back to lean on her desk, resting beside Don, the two of them waited in silence for a minute. The intern entered a little while later, carrying a small childproof bottle and a plastic cup filled with water, obviously taken from a water cooler that was located somewhere along the corridor or within another office. Receiving what she had ordered, April, with little difficulty, popped open the small white bottle and shook out two pills. She handed them to Don along with the cup of water. "Swallow these," April said, though it was more of a command.

Donatello stared at the two capsules in his human hand, just wondering what they were for. Like he had been told, he gently placed them in his mouth at the same time and took a large gulp of water. April raised an eyebrow. "Open your mouth," she requested. Don stared at her for a few seconds before finally obliging. Nothing could be seen. "Lift up your tongue." Once again Don followed orders, and still nothing was found. Pleased, April gave the man another one of her pleasant smiles. "Okay, it's time to go back to your room."

Being helped once again by the oddly familiar interns, within minutes Donatello was sitting back in the same place he had woken up. He didn't like the bed – the leather straps just made him feel uneasy and uncomfortable, while the corner of the room seemed to be more private. As soon as everyone left, Don quietly spat out the two pills. He had hidden them at the top of his mouth, squashed up right against his back molars and the gums of his top lip. Trying not to be too conspicuous, Don snapped open the capsules, tipped out the white powdery substance, before swallowing the empty shells in order to hide the rest of the evidence. Don didn't trust them, whoever they were - not yet at any rate.

The minutes ticked by, but Don thought the time had passed quickly because of how busy his mind was, thinking about what was the truth. Donatello sighed and rested his head against the padded wall, just wondering what he was going to do. His whole body jumped in shock when he noticed a familiar person standing in the diagonally opposite corner of his room. "Donny?" Leo said, confused at the sight before him.

"Leo! Boy, am I glad to see you!" Donatello called out, a wide grin spread across his face. Suddenly he became confused; the elation of his brother's appearance dissipated. "How… how did you get in here?" Don was baffled, wondering if this was a rescue attempt.

"You're in a coma, Don," Leo said simply. Donatello gave him a worried look.

"When? How?" Don uttered.

"During your sparring match with me, you… blacked out," Leonardo explained, quite concerned. "Master Splinter told me to contact you through meditation," Leo said. Don watched as his brother stopped talking, taking just a moment to observe his surroundings. "What is this place, Donny?" Leo asked, quite worried with what he was seeing.

"I wish I knew," Donatello whispered, also becoming terrified of the world he was in.

"We need you to wake up, Don. Everyone's worried about you," Leo said.

"But how? How do I come out of this coma?"

"Just close your eyes and concentrate. We're all here with you… Just concentrate," Leonardo calmly instructed. Donatello sighed and slowly closed his eyes, thinking about the home and the world he knew so well, along with his desire to see his loved ones again…

To be continued…


	3. Theory

Chapter Three: Theory.

Exhaling, eyes closed, Donatello took a moment to admire the sheer quietness of his external environment. Pure silence was such a rare treat. Having a scientific mind, Don always wondered if this was the closest that he could ever get to understanding what nothingness was. Yet, ironically, silence was deafening. So was there something? The philosophical trance he had entered quickly disappeared when he thought he heard someone else's breath. Thinking back to the astral projected image of Leo he had encountered, Don wondered if it was indeed him he was listening to, if non-physical beings did need to respire, or whether he had concentrated enough to come out of his so-called coma altogether. Feeling ready, Donatello gradually opened his eyes.

He was stunned at what he saw. It wasn't just Leo in his room, but instead his entire family. Don smiled, realising that he had underestimated their stealth, which had been fine-tuned since they were youngsters. Michelangelo, Raphael and Splinter stood by his bedside. Leo, however, sat in a lotus position by the door to his room, finally opening his eyes as well. The two turtles locked eyes for an instant, causing Leonardo to grin with pride and success. "I guess it worked!" Leo chimed.

"Donny!" Mike gabbled, plunging his arms around Donatello's shoulders as though he couldn't keep his relieved emotions under control.

"Careful, Mikey! He doesn't want your cooties," Raphael wryly commented, acting macho as usual. Sniffling slightly from the spontaneous bombardment of emotions, Mike nodded, blushed slightly in embarrassment because of his outburst, before finally standing back upright to allow his sick brother some space. Seeing the purple-wearing turtle more clearly, Raph caught Donatello's gaze. The gruff reptile gave him a little nod as a greeting. "Miss me?" Raph asked with a smirk. Don's grin deepened while he jokingly rolled his eyes.

By this time Leonardo had made his way to Don's bedside, standing next to the others. "So… what happened to me?" Donatello finally asked, discovering how dry his lips were when he spoke.

"You fell into a coma," Splinter calmly reported, placing a gentle, assuring hand upon his son's.

"During the sparring match? Like what Leo said to me in that…" Donatello trailed off. What exactly was that place?

"It seemed liked you went into a seizure or something. We were fearing the worst," Leonardo said, his concern being carried by his tone of voice.

"So you actually communicated with Leo? In your dream?" Mike questioned.

"I didn't know that Leo was psychic… Maybe that's why his head's so big," Raph stated, never missing a chance to debunk his rival. Leonardo simply rolled his eyes at Raph's comment.

"You know, if you had any patience, you would quickly learn all of the benefits to meditation. Then again, even if you did practice it more often, your mind's so thick that your soul is incapable of crossing any spiritual boundaries," Leonardo replied, adding a nasty remark to the end of it.

"Enough!" Splinter intervened; halting the conversation before Raphael could refute his brother's wild claim. Shocked by the volume of their master's voice, Leo and Raph glanced at the wise rat, then lowered their gaze when they realised that it was an incredibly inappropriate time to be exchanging snide remarks. "Are you feeling better now, Donatello?" Splinter kindly asked, quickly adjusting his tone of voice from the one he had just used on the two quarreling turtles.

"I, I think so," Don mumbled, though it was clear to everyone that he was still terribly confused about some things. The others couldn't help but wonder why he held such a perplexed expression; apart from Leonardo, they thought it was fairly simple and incontestable as to what had happened to Donatello.

"You don't look so good," Raphael said rather bluntly, being his brutally honest self as per usual.

"Really?" Don worried, raising his hands to his face as though he wanted to hide any embarrassing unattractive faults. Leo gave Raph a sharp glare, hinting that the red-wearing turtle should just keep his mouth shut and his tongue on a short leash. Yet Leonardo knew what Raphael meant; although Donatello said that he felt fine, he still looked highly stressed and tired, almost drained. The blue-wearing turtle figured that some of it might have been affiliated with Don's fragile mental state, which caused Leo to remember what he had seen when he had crossed over into Donatello's psychological realm.

"Don… What exactly was that place? Do you know?" Leonardo asked his question a second time, wondering if his brother now knew the answer considering that he had regained consciousness.

"I'm not too sure what to make of it," Don answered honestly, his mind wandering back to the 'nightmare' he had… that is, if it was fictional.

"So… Can you remember the dream you had when you were your coma?" Michelangelo asked out of curiosity, intrigued to discover if there was any difference between that and dreams occurring under normal circumstances. Splinter sighed, knowing where the conversation would lead. For the second time, the short, gray-furred mammal decided to interfere.

"Come, my sons. I do believe that we should leave Donatello now so that he can get some more rest," Splinter suggested. Nodding slightly in acknowledgment, the conversation ended abruptly as everyone slowly vacated the room in accordance to their father's wishes. "Rest well," Splinter wished, before lastly exiting Don's bedroom.

It was eerie being alone once again. Donatello knew he needed time to think through everything that had happened to him; just to categorise and file his thoughts into neat little piles of what was false and what was the honest truth. But that was easier said than done. At first he hadn't even doubted Leo's spiritual presence when he was confined in that bleak padded cell, but after allowing some time to recall everything that April – well, if that was April at all – had spoken of, nothing was truly that black and white anymore. In the end, Don couldn't toss aside what he had known all of his life for some theory he had only heard that day. Yet the doubt was still there, even though at that point in time he tended to trust his family a lot more than those shady scientists.

The fact that doubt resided in his mind wasn't the only thing that bothered him. What was more frightening was how real everything seemed. From the smells to the sounds, it all felt utterly believable, and Don had trouble comprehending how all of that could have possibly been just some weird dream he experienced because of his coma. He could even recall how the padded walls felt under the tips of his fingers and the coldness of the floor. His throat felt slightly uncomfortable from when he had swallowed the empty plastic shells of his tablets, but how could that be? Surely a mere dream couldn't be that real?

Eventually getting tired, Donatello sighed and closed his eyes, deciding that he needed more rest. He shuddered almost immediately. The harsh whiteness of that padded cell had burned into his eyes, as though he could envision the place when his eyelids were closed. The image gradually faded, and Don could finally achieve the rest he needed. Yet his sleep was fitful. Scared that he would somehow travel back to that mental institution without even knowing, Don often opened his eyes, just to check that he was still tucked in his bed in his quiet sewer home. One time when he snapped awake, he found Splinter sitting on the foot of his bed, just staring intently to make sure his son was okay. Donatello gave the old rat a smile, grateful that such a warm and calming familiar face was there to comfort him if needed.

* * *

It was lunch time when Donatello finally awoke. The turtle drowsily rubbed his tired eyes as Michelangelo kindly offered to make a sandwich for him. Raphael, Leonardo and Master Splinter all sat around the kitchen table, staring at Don as they munched on their food. The purple-wearing turtle let out a small yawn and sulked slightly in his seat. "Gees, you've been asleep for hours and you're still tired!" Raphael commented.

"Didn't you sleep well?" Leo inquired, making the same observations as his hotheaded brother.

"Not really," Don mumbled, trying his best to hold back another yawn.

"Bad dreams?" Leo wondered, before taking the final bite of his sandwich.

"No… I didn't have any nightmares… but I guess I was just worried that I would have another one," Don sighed.

"Are they really that scary?" Mike asked as he buttered the toast that had just popped out of the toaster.

"I'm not really sure 'scary' is the right word…"

"Then what's it like?" Mike questioned further, incredibly curious. Donatello remained silent, wondering if he should reveal the details of the mental institution. Splinter noticed his indecision and pained expression.

"If it is deeply bothering you, Donatello, then it might be wise to talk about it. Sometimes dreams are metaphors for your own problems in life, while other times they are just jumbled up thoughts. Maybe if you expressed what happened in your dreams, then that might make the solution or answer more clear," Splinter quietly suggested, urging his son to speak, as even he was curious as to what the boy's visions had been about.

Donatello contemplated his Master's words, then took in a deep, calming breath in preparation. "I dreamt that I was human; a Japanese-American middle-aged man to be exact. Things is, I'm a patient in a mental institution, where all this…" Don widely gestured towards the entire lair, before finally continuing. "All this, is simply some kind of wild fantasy I made up in my mind. Apparently you guys don't even exist… Crazy, huh?" Don muttered, giggling at first to make it seem as though the whole situation and idea was rather humorous, but he quickly lost his grinning expression, replacing it swiftly with one of seriousness. No one else really found it funny.

"So what's the metaphor? We're all invisible to Donny because Donny's self-centered?" Raphael snidely remarked. The others were unsure how to interpret Raph's statement, as they couldn't tell if Raph was announcing one of his usual sarcastic joking remarks or whether he was actually offended by Don's small tale.

"Do you believe this?" Splinter asked. Donatello could tell that the mutant rat was having difficulties in comprehending how the turtle was feeling.

"…Of course not," Don replied, yet there was a small pause before his words.

"Gees, don't answer too quickly," Raphael rolled his eyes.

"It was just really convincing at the time, that's all," Don mumbled, staring at his hands as he absentmindedly scratched a blob of dried food off the table's surface. He didn't want to look anyone in the eyes, quite ashamed of what he had been thinking about.

"Was it like that human dream you had before?" Mike asked as he delivered Don his sandwich, referring to the conversation that the two of them had shared previously.

"Yeah… But unlike last time, I couldn't wake myself up."

"That's probably because you were in a coma," Leonardo, who had been quiet for most of the conversation, finally piped up.

"What was so convincing about this dream?" Splinter asked, only trying to understand Donatello's situation better.

"I don't know… Everything, like the smells, tastes, sounds… I just felt like I was there, for real. Then there was everything that April told me-"

"-April was there?" Mike interrupted.

"Yes, but not the April we know. She was different somehow… but also the same… It's kind of hard to explain. Anyway, she told me that I was schizophrenic and that I was combing reality and fiction into my fantasy. So some people and events exist, but others don't," Donatello explained slowly, holding a pensive expression on his face as though he was still trying to sort all the details out in his mind.

"So does the Shredder exist?" Michelangelo curiously questioned.

"I don't think so," Don answered.

"Karai?" Mike asked again.

"No."

"Klunk?"

"Michelangelo!" Splinter barked, wanting the orange-wearing turtle to stop with his unnecessary questions. It was obvious to everyone else that the issue was to be treated seriously, and not simply some form of entertainment.

"I guess it just threw me off guard. I mean, when you think about it, being teenage mutant ninja turtles who live in the sewer, fighting evil crime lords, mystical beings and aliens… It just sounds so stupid!" Don realised. In a blur of rapid movement, Raphael jumped out of his seat, leaned towards his purple-wearing brother and punched him hard just below one of his shoulders. Don was too stunned to react at first, but the pain from the blow quickly followed. "Ow! What the shell?" Donatello yelled, cradling his bruised arm with his other hand.

"Did it hurt?" Raphael snarled.

"Of course it did, you lunatic!" Don bellowed back.

"Then it must have been real!" Raphael argued. "Don't you dare say those things, Don! Don't you dare act like that again! I've known you all my life, and it's a bloody insult that you can even consider such a stupid idea! You may be smart Don, but lately I've been wondering if you're starting to lose it a bit!" Raphael growled.

"Shut up, Raph!" Leonardo finally defended his victimised brother. "You don't understand!"

"Understand what, Leo? Have you been listening to what he's been saying? He's fucking purple Fruit Loop!"

"Enough!" Splinter raised his voice, standing up from his seat. The quarreling turtles immediately ceased their bickering. There was silence.

"What I saw… It was very confronting. I'm not sure if that was some ordinary dream," Leonardo quietly finished what he was originally going to say.

"Then what was it?" Raph asked, though his voice remained low and somewhat threatening.

"Maybe it was to do with that injection Donny got in Chaplin's lab?" Leo suggested.

"That's what I've been thinking… But why would Dr Chaplin want to make me imagine things like this? What's the purpose?" Don timidly questioned, not wanting to get into another fight.

"I don't know… But you've only started having these 'human' dreams after the injection, right?" Leo was trying to figure everything out, especially when Don didn't seem mentally fit enough to come to any conclusions by himself.

"…Now that I think about it… Yeah," Don said.

"Then it has to be related to the injection," Leo concluded.

"Dr Chaplin said it was in preparation for something… What would he mean by that?" Don pondered.

"…I don't know… But maybe those disks we collected might contain some information on the Shredder's experiments as well. The answer might be on there. Otherwise we'll have to visit that lab again and see if there's a cure for it or something," Leonardo said.

"Have those disks been cracked yet?" Don inquired, suddenly remembering what he was working on before the whole dream fiasco started.

"No. Leatherhead and April have been working on them though," Leo answered with a sigh.

"But why would I have had a seizure? Why did I enter a coma in the first place?" Don continued to question. Everyone's faces remained blank. Donatello frowned, knowing that he'll probably never discover the answer. Thinking back to that other brave new world, Don realised that he was offered more answers. As a side effect, did Dr Chaplin's injection cause him to enter a coma? Or was it really because he woke up in the 'real world', and the coma was just some excuse his mind made up for his alter ego's absence in his fantasy? '_Either way, I'm crazy…'_ Donatello sorely concluded to himself.

"It is probably best if you didn't worry about such things until you have fully recovered," Splinter advised.

"You're right," Don whispered, acknowledging that his ability to reason had been compromised as of late. Silence crept into the lair once again. From the look on Splinter's face, it was clear that nothing more was to be said about the issue until later.

"So… was Casey there?" Mike couldn't help himself, just dying to know what this other world was like.

"Michelangelo!"

_To be continued…_


	4. The Trigger

Author's Notes: Please visit my profile to find out information in regards to review responses. Sorry for the long wait on this update. Hopefully I'll get quicker soon. Also, just a reminder, this fic is sort of set in all TMNT universes. The world where Don is a turtle is set solely in the Fox Box universe, while the world where Don is a human is a mixture of all TMNT versions.

Chapter Four: The Trigger.

It hurt to keep his eyes open. Don wondered if it was even physically possible. He needed sleep; that much was certain. Swiveling around in his computer chair, Don eyed his tidy bed in the quiet humming glow of his monitor. He sighed, finally deciding to call it quits for the night. After having such a troubling time with previous nights due to his weird human dreams, he now found the prospect of sleeping as being rather daunting. Yet it was a hopeless battle. He just couldn't stay awake any longer. Reluctantly turning off his computer, Donatello tiredly stumbled over towards his bed and slipped under the covers.

Closing his eyes and simply lying in a comfortable position, Don didn't know whether he had been dreaming or just thinking to himself when things started to occur. His arm started to tingle. Groaning slightly, Don changed his position, thinking he had simply squashed his limb and therefore had caused it to sting slightly because of the lack of blood. Yet the tingling sensation continued. It wasn't long till it became quite bothersome; how could he expect to have a good nights sleep with such a distraction? '_It's probably because of that punch Raphael gave me'_, Donatello sorely thought to himself. A few minutes later, Don's imagination had run wild, and he was starting to wonder whether a spider or another kind of freaky animal had bitten him. After all, the sewers were crawling with all sorts of undesirable critters. Eventually curiosity had gotten the better of him, and he opened his eyes.

Donatello blinked. He could see the floor. The ground in itself wasn't unusual, however it certainly worried him, especially when it was physically impossible to view it from lying down in his bed. It wasn't long till he discovered that he was instead positioned on a massage table, where there was a hole in the head rest where patients could place their face so that they could lie down on their stomachs and keep their back straight. Lifting his head out of the little hole, Don's whole body tensed in shock when he saw an unknown human standing beside him.

"I guess it's true - you really are awake," the woman commented with a gentle smile. A slight Asian accent plagued her words. Numbed by his odd surroundings, Donatello mutely stared at her, noting her short black hair and somewhat attractive appearance. His heart pounded; Don didn't need to look at his own hands to know that he was back in this other, brave new world. He watched as the woman approached him, her name tag glinting in the harsh white lighting. 'Mei' he managed to read.

Once the initial shock was over, Don realised that his arm was still tingling. Still laying on his stomach, Don awkwardly tried to turn his head so he could view the rest of his foreign body. He tensed once again when he noticed a number of small silver needles sticking out of his limbs, though he wasn't panicking as much as he thought he would. Don watched in stupor as the woman called Mei gently poked in another fine needle. "What are you doing?" Donatello finally asked.

"Stimulating your muscles," Mei answered.

"What? How? …Why?" Don asked all at once, though for some odd reason he didn't feel like protesting against the woman's actions.

"I'm using acupuncture to get your chi moving through your body. Because of your condition, your muscles don't get used as much as they should, meaning that if we don't stimulate them, then they'll slowly deteriorate," Mei said, popping in another needle on his hamstring.

"But… Wouldn't I have to move them around myself in order to keep my muscles strong?" Donatello wondered; his face buried into the table, voice rebounding off the gray tiled floor.

"Yes. Sometimes you do move around when you're hallucinating. You're not catatonic all of the time, though you don't really use your legs and arms often enough. So we do this every week and on every second day a physical therapist guides your body through some excercises. It's not the same as you being active yourself, but it does help," Mei explained. Donatello remained silent, staring at the floor and mentally tracing lines around the cracks in the tiles.

"Um… But, but why acupuncture? If I'm supposed to be schizophrenic, then wouldn't shoving heaps of needles in me be a bad idea, in case I freak out or something?" Donatello wondered, rather skeptical of the world he was in.

Mei stopped working, causing Don to arch his back a little bit in order to lift his head out of the hole. He observed her solemn expression. "You really don't remember me, do you Danny?" the woman asked sadly.

"I can't say I do," Don answered truthfully, though there was a hint of genuine remorse in his voice. What did this person mean to him, if anything at all?

Mei sighed. "I guess I just hoped that it wasn't true what the others told me about you – how you forget just about everything," Mei murmured, eyes downcast, ridden with sadness.

"How long have you known me for?" Don wondered.

"Quite a few years now," Mei said. "Back then, you snapped out of your catatonic state for a while, long enough for us to get acquainted with each other. Then your condition worsened once again, though you included me into your fantasy. The next thing I heard was that you had repressed everything – forgotten all those conversations we had…" the woman sighed once again. "I didn't believe Dr O'Neil at first… But I guess she was right about you."

"We used to be friends?" Don timidly asked. He didn't know what to feel. Should he be ashamed with how he treated this woman? Ashamed that all those moments in time that Mei had treasured deeply were simply scrapped from his mind with extreme ease? Yet, that was of course if this was what was considered reality. It could be true that this woman, including the world she lived in, didn't exist at all, and therefore there was nothing to remember anyway. But then again, should he be ashamed that he even doubted her existence even though she was standing right beside him, in full flesh and blood?

"I'd like to think that we were friends, yes," Mei answered slowly.

There was silence. Donatello suddenly felt incredibly awkward. What could he possibly say to her? 'Sorry, you weren't worth remembering? You weren't important enough for me to even keep you in my fantasy?' A minute passed before Mei finally resumed her work, locating his pressure points.

"So… have you read my case file?" Don wondered. Since he couldn't return to the world that he knew so well, complete with being equipped with a shell, the man decided that he might as well make the most of his time there.

"Of course. Everyone who works with you has seen it," Mei said.

"Do you happen to know what I was like? Before I was diagnosed with schizophrenia?" Don asked, lowering his head back into the hole, straitening his back as he did so.

"What type of person you were before you were admitted?" Mei rephrased the question.

"Yeah," Don confirmed.

"Well, I didn't know you personally back then, but from what I've heard, you were apparently a very bright boy. Good at school. Very clever all round," Mei answered as best she could.

"Then what happened?" Don found himself asking. He naturally didn't like the idea that his reptilian family didn't exist, and yet this world offered something else. The concept of being human was incredibly enticing, causing Don to be more curious about the finer details the more time he spent in that foreign place. It was the first instance where Don really started to ask himself the hard questions… What if he really was schizophrenic?

"Experts say that schizophrenia is usually linked with puberty. Anyway, when you reached that age, you became really irritable. You frequently suffered from panic attacks, lashing out at other people. A lot of your friends left you and you always were in trouble at school. Before you were admitted to this hospital, you were a part of a street gang, stealing frequently; all in all rather disturbed," Mei answered seriously, trying her best not to upset the man. But Don didn't argue with what she had said. He didn't even move. Don just laid there, soaking in all the information.

"Before I… went bad, what sort of things was I interested in? What were my goals?" Don wondered.

"You were mainly interested in science, how things worked, stuff like that. You were really good at mathematics as well. I think you once said to Dr O'Neil that you wanted to be an electrician, but you felt that your father was pushing you too hard. He thought you were good enough to become a doctor," Mei said.

"Didn't I like my father?" Don asked, almost rhetorically.

"You hated him. He was, after all, the person who admitted you here."

"What's he like?"

"I suppose one could describe him to be quite a businessman. It may not seem like it, but he still does deeply care about you, Danny," Mei said, reminding the man about what his true family was like.

"And my mother?"

"Your mother and father got divorced when you were six. I think she now lives in somewhere in New Jersey. Your father gained the rights for custody," Mei answered. Once again Don just simply soaked in all the new information. "Your father likes to keep things quite traditional; keep in touch with his heritage. So he's quite open to alternative therapies, like acupuncture. You yourself were first introduced to this type of treatment when you were a little boy, so you're quite used to it," Mei explained.

"So you don't use acupuncture on any other patients?"

"Of course not. Only you. Other patients would most likely freak out. But because you're used to this, we find that it tends to relax you instead." The woman didn't lie; oddly enough, Donatello did find the therapy rather peaceful even though it involved the use of needles.

"But yesterday - well, at least I thought it was yesterday - April told me that I was never fond of needles," Don said, becoming confused.

"She probably meant syringes. You tend to shy away from them. I don't blame you. But, as you can see for yourself, you don't seem to have a problem with these types of needles," Mei said with another one of her gentle smiles. Don lifted his head up so he could view the woman again, finding her smile rather contagious. He continued to stare at her thoughtfully, remembering how she mentioned she had been included into his warped fantasy. If this world really was the correct one, then what would life had been like if he had never developed schizophrenia? Even though Don could only remember speaking to Mei for the past twenty minutes, the man could tell that he would get along well with her. It finally dawned on him what things this unknown world could offer; freedom, equality, peace and most of all, love. As he stared at her face and her Asian appearance, deep down, Donatello could guess where Mei would have once fit in.

"Mei? You know how you said that I included you into my fantasy? …Were you a female turtle?" Don asked, though as the words slipped from his mouth, he realised how stupid his question must have sounded. Yet Mei still understood what he meant.

"Do you remember that?" Mei sounded so hopeful, so enthused, that Don cringed at the thought of disappointing her.

"No. I just guessed. April told me earlier that I once had a female turtle in my fantasy," Don murmured.

"Oh…" The flicker of delight had escaped from her eyes, and instead it was replaced with sadness. "You incorporated me into your fantasy. Yeah, I was the female turtle," Mei admitted, speaking softly. Donatello was now more confused than ever. If what the doctors were saying were true, then why would he only imagine male turtles, especially when the idea of being the last of his kind terrified and depressed him so much? If there was once a female turtle, then what went wrong? Did he used to have a crush on Mei? Did they have an argument one time during an acupuncture session? His heart pumped faster, scared that he no longer knew who he was. Was he a ninja turtle, sworn to a life of secrecy and hiding? Or was he a man, lost and confused, that he had to rely on other people in order to find out what he used to be like in better times? Most of all… who was manipulating him?

"Mei?"

"Hmm?" The woman awaited his question.

"What are my chances of recovering from this?"

"You'll have to ask Dr O'Neil," Mei answered honestly. "I read in your report, that after the first time you came out of your catatonic state, you were released from here for a short amount of time."

"Really? What happened?"

"Your condition grew worse. One day you were so convinced that your fantasy was real, that you descended into the sewers to try and find your brothers. It was your father that found you. He readmitted you back here, and that's when we found out how complex your condition was. …You're different from other schizophrenics… But you've got some of the best doctors in the state trying to help you overcome this," Mei said. Donatello sighed. There was so much that he didn't know. He was a person who usually enjoyed puzzles; collecting all the facts to come to a conclusion. But what were the facts? Who should he believe? Sensing a headache coming on, Don placed his head back into the hole, allowing Mei to continue on with her work.

"Danny? I'm now going to attach a machine to some of these needles. When I turn it on, you should feel a light tingling sensation. It's supposed to help your chi flow. Since you're actually awake this time, you can tell me if you'd like the power turned up higher," Mei instructed him softly, clipping the thin needles as she spoke. Hearing the click of the switch, just like she had said, Don could feel his body tingling. Finding the sensation oddly relaxing, Don exhaled gently and closed his eyes.

The tingling continued. It gradually grew stronger. "Um, Mei? Can you turn it down a bit?" Don asked. The sensation didn't stop or even recede. Instead it just insistently grew stronger. Donatello gritted his teeth, the pins and needles feeling becoming quite bothersome, bordering on painful. "MEI!" Don growled, quite aggravated, eyes flying open, his body popping up quickly into a sitting position. Little white dots clouded over his vision, as though his eyes weren't adjusted properly to his surroundings. He was disorientated for a few seconds, though it didn't take him long to realise where he was. Donatello was back in his bedroom. No longer was he lying face down on a massage table, but instead he was sitting upright on his sagging mattress with his moth-bitten blanket haphazardly draping over his legs. A dull ache spread down one of his arms; the tingles burning at his fingertips. It seemed that he had simply slept on his arm.

Eyes adjusting to the dim lighting, Don's heart made a giant pump of adrenaline when he noticed a certain figure sitting quietly in the corner of his room. He relaxed slightly when he noticed that it was only Splinter. "Who is Mei?" the elderly rat asked. Slightly dumbfounded while he tried to figure out how much Splinter had heard, Don sat on his bed, quite flabbergasted. "Is she from your dream? This 'other world'?" Splinter baited, urging him to speak.

"Yes, Master Splinter," Don mumbled.

The rat sighed and moved his way over to the turtle's bed, sitting on the covers beside his son. "I see you are deeply troubled," Splinter noted.

"I'm just a bit confused, that's all," Don admitted, voice almost a whisper.

"What is it about this place that confuses you?"

"I don't know. Everything just seems so real…" Don trailed off.

"We all have dreams like that at least once in our lives. Some wise people have said that dreams are simply a way for the mind to solve the problems that plague us in the real world," Splinter reminded the turtle.

"But I'm perfectly fine with my life! All my problems revolve around my dreams!" Don raised his voice, quite frustrated. Splinter frowned, hating to see his pupil like this.

"Maybe you have some unsolved questions that need answering? Maybe your dreams are trying to tap into your subconscious thought-"

"-It's not that," Don interrupted the ninjitsu master. Splinter was partially taken aback by his abruptness. "It's not only how real everything seems… but also the fact that what they say _could_ be true…"

"Do you truly believe this? I'm certain that if you looked deep within yourself, you will know what the truth is," Splinter advised him.

"But Master Splinter, it's the possibility that confuses me," Donatello sighed. The rat could tell that he had more to say, so he stayed silent, waiting for the turtle to gather his thoughts. "Master Splinter?"

"Yes, Donatello," Splinter urged him to continue.

"Were there ever any female turtles?" Donatello timidly asked. Splinter tilted his head to one side, wondering what brought on the question.

"No, Donatello," Splinter answered firmly.

"But if there happened to be one and you knew about her, you'd tell us, right?" Don asked, knowing that his question was rather silly but still wanting to get the issue off his mind.

"Of course I would," Splinter solemnly said, causing the rat to wonder what exactly these dreams were like, considering that Don had raised the issue of girls. He knew he would be foolish to believe that his sons wouldn't have the primal topic buried in their subconscious, though he still wasn't used to one of his sons bringing the subject up.

"I thought so…" Don mumbled, easily portraying signs of unease and paranoia by shifting his body uncomfortably and avoiding eye contact. "I mean, some things that they say don't really add up. Well, according to what I know at any rate. Then again, what do I know? I just can't help but believe that there may be some element of truth behind their claims…" Don trailed off, not knowing how his father would react to such controversial views.

"Your brothers are very worried about you," Splinter told the turtle.

"Really?"

"They fear that you might be 'losing it', as they so eloquently phrased it," Splinter reported, hoping to curb Don's current train of thought.

"I'm just confused… I, I don't know who I am anymore. I just need some time to myself, so I can sort things out again," Donatello started to give excuses for his abstract behaviour.

Splinter stared sadly at his student. "Donatello, although you may feel that way, I don't think it is best to dwell and deal with these issues by yourself. There's only so much meditation can accomplish. Sometimes you discover who you really are not by looking within, but rather through sharing, adapting, responding and reacting with other people. We know who you are, and we can help you through this. Sticking to the medication you're currently subscribed to will also help your progress," April analysed.

Donatello's entire body jolted with shock. He could have sworn that he was speaking to Splinter. A sickening flow of disorientation bombarded Don's mind. Where was he? What happened to Splinter? Was he really talking to April the entire time? His knees rattled with terror as he tried to comprehend everything. From what he could understand, Don believed he had traveled in-between the two different worlds with the blink of an eye. April was now sitting where Splinter once was, causing Donatello to doubt even further if the elderly rat was there at all.

"Danny?" April stopped what she was saying as soon as she noticed Donatello's sudden change in behaviour. "Are you alright?"

"Where am I?" Don's voice shuddered, terribly confused.

"You're in my office, at the mental institution…" April answered suspiciously, raising an eyebrow as she thought he would have known that simple fact.

"But, but Splinter was right there! He was talking to me, and, and…" Don trailed off, nearing hysterics.

"Shh, Danny! It's okay!" April attempted to calm the terrified man. It wasn't long till she had figured out what had happened. "Do you remember what I was talking about?" she inquired.

"No! Splinter was right here, and he was giving me advice, and then all of a sudden you're here instead, and-"

"-Okay, okay. It's alright. I know what's happening," April assured him. "You must have been talking while you were still dreaming. You see, when you lapse into your mental fantasy, you're not catatonic the entire time. Sometimes you lock your body into unusual positions, while at other times you even go as far as to act out what you are doing in your schizophrenic fantasy. It can be quite hard to tell at times if you are awake of dreaming. I thought you could hear what I was saying, but obviously that wasn't the case…" April trailed off. After a few seconds the woman thought of the incident as being rather humorous, even though it had been quite a mistake on her part.

Donatello simply shuddered; rather rattled with how quickly and haphazardly he was slipping between both of the worlds. "Where's Mei?" Don wondered, still trying to gain some bearings in this contrasting environment.

"Mei?" April was slightly baffled.

"Yeah, Mei. My acupuncturist. I was talking to her earlier, and I think I fell asleep during the treatment," Don timidly explained.

"She only comes in on Thursdays," April said.

"Well… what day is it?"

"Saturday."

"But, but how can that be? All I've done is spoken to Splinter. I've only been gone from this place for about ten minutes or so!" Donatello started to freak out once again.

"Danny, your fantasy doesn't exactly keep the correct time. When you're sleeping here, it doesn't necessarily mean that your alter ego is sleeping as well. You can choose when or how your fantasy progresses; sometimes you only imagine a whole day's worth of activities, while in reality an entire week has passed," April carefully explained a few details to him. Donatello fell silent. When he didn't say anything for a while, April started to question whether he had slipped back into his catatonic state.

"April?"

"Yes?" April asked, partly relieved to know that he was still part of her world.

"How long will it take for me to get better?" Donatello wondered. His heart raced faster, knowing that what he was asking was rather bold, especially when he wasn't sure whether to classify his brothers as being real or just a figment of his imagination. But it wouldn't hurt to just ask, would it?

"Danny, that all depends on you. You're going to have to really work hard and stay positive in order to beat this thing. It's all about the effort you put into it; if you don't want to get better, then your condition will deteriorate once again," April calmly explained. Donatello took a few moments just to think his situation over.

"April… I want to get better," Donatello admitted. The man was just glad that his brothers weren't around to hear that comment. Don had always been somewhat of a pacifist; getting tired with all the fighting involved with his lifestyle. In this place, although he was considered mentally sick, he is at least _human_. He had always longed for this; to be in a world where he was relatively normal, not cowering beneath a great city. Don wanted to experience life for what it was; to get a job, study at college, buy some property, find a partner and start a family, all of which he couldn't do as a ninja turtle. Yet Don wasn't completely convinced. He also felt selfish, thinking about himself and not believing in the people, his motley family, who have only shown him tolerance, trust and friendship over his lifetime. But when the two worlds were compared, this unknown human realm tended to make more sense; surely mutant turtles didn't really exist, or did they? If being human was indeed all a figment of his imagination because of Dr Chaplin's injection, then what would happen to his turtle body if he chose to explore the environment he had always longed for? Donatello definitely hadn't made a firm decision, but he still wanted to keep his options open and to learn more about this world that he had always been deprived from.

"That's excellent, Danny!" April exclaimed, getting quite excited by his fantastic progress. "You're father will be so happy to hear that when he comes in to visit you," April added.

"When's he coming?" Don was curious, but also partly alarmed.

"He's on his way now. He visits you this time every week. He'll be pleasantly surprised to find you awake – he hasn't spoken to you in years," April said.

"He must really care about me, you know, to still visit me in this condition," Don realised.

"He does. He only wants you to come back home."

"So what can I do to get better? How can I stop lapsing into this fantasy world?" Donatello wondered.

"I've been studying your case for quite some time now. We've tried a number of things, but they haven't worked. So I've thought of taking a different approach this time around. Basically I want you to discover a trigger," April suggested.

"A trigger?" Don was curious.

"Something to make you realise when you're dreaming and when you're awake. I think that's a big problem with you; you hear two different points of view and you don't know which one is the truth. Lucid dreamers have the same problem. Like you, people who have the ability to control their dreams need to find something that lets them know that they're dreaming. A common test is to turn a light switch on or to just jump off a small height, like a chair, as the mind tends to have trouble imagining sudden changes. But you're condition is much more complex than a simple lucid dream," April said.

"So what could I do? What should my trigger be?" Don wondered, though there was a hint of caution and distrust in his voice.

"First of all, I want you to think very hard about your fantasy world. Maybe there's something that doesn't make complete sense? Maybe there's something you can train yourself to do in your fantasy so that'll remind you of everything I've spoken to you about? For instance, with lucid dreamers, they spend five minutes of their day staring at an object or something simple, like the back of their hand. If they happen to notice that object during their dream, then that tends to trigger the brain into realising that they are in fact dreaming, and from then on they can control what they do," April explained, though she had a small feeling that what she had said might have just gone over her patient's head.

"So basically you want me to find a fault; something that will make me realise for certain that my 'fantasy' isn't real?" Don wanted clarification.

"Generally, yes. But I have no idea what that could be. It's up to you to find that out," April said, feeling like she was giving the man a mission.

There was a knock on April's office door. "Come in!" she called out to the unknown figure. Opening slowly, only enough to pop his head inside the room, Dr Stockman looked over towards April. Donatello still wasn't used to seeing the doctor who also doubled as one of his enemies, but he was prepared for it this time around; controlling his emotions and not freaking out unlike the last time he had seen him.

"Danny's father is here. Is he right to come in?" Stockman asked, wanting to know the status of April's patient.

"I think Danny will be alright… Are you ready to see your father, Danny?" April answered Stockman before turning her attention towards Donatello.

"Yeah, sure. Why not?" Don said, sounding optimistic. He had to admit that he was rather curious and excited.

Nodding, Stockman slowly creaked the door open, revealing the Japanese man who was standing beside him. Donatello froze in terror. For a Japanese man, he was rather tall. He looked fit for his age, though he had quite a number of white hairs on his head. Even though he was considerably older than what Donatello had always imagined him to be, in the end his 'father' was unmistakably Oroku Saki.

Donatello cried out in panic, falling off his seat out of shock before trying to scamper away. For some odd reason unbeknownst to him, Don found that the corner of the room offered some comfort. Both April and Stockman immediately approached the bewildered man while Saki was too alarmed by his son's reaction to even move. "Danny, it's okay! Calm down!" April said loudly, trying to grab both of Donatello's wrists so she could restrain him. Yet Don continued to resist, flailing his weak arms against the two doctors. He started to scream and wail, so confused that he didn't know how to react. "Calm down!" April ordered him again but to no avail. Donatello's vision grew hazy, though he didn't know if he was losing consciousness or if it was because he had some tears in his eyes. Everything from that point onwards was a complete blur to him.

"He's getting worse," someone said, though its origin was indeterminate.

_To be continued…_


	5. Findings

A/N: I really don't know why this update took so long o.0! Anyway, I'm sorry for making you wait. I hope this chapter was worth it.

Chapter Five: Findings.

Donatello's entire body jolted awake. He didn't pass through the two different worlds peacefully, like some sort of sedated form of meditation. It was fast. Jarring. His body was brimming with adrenaline while his mind desperately scrambled to catch up. Disorientated, Don swung at the first thing he saw. It was fortunate that he missed, otherwise he would have really upset his family.

"Donny! Calm down!" A frantic voice instructed. It sounded like Leonardo. Blinking furiously, wanting his eyes to adjust faster, Don gasped when a strong set of hands pushed him back down onto his mattress. "Calm down!" Leo repeated.

Donatello struggled and bucked for a few seconds until his brother's words finally made it through to him. Seeing him relax, Leonardo cautiously removed his grip and took a step backwards. Breathing hard, Don looked around his room, noticing Splinter, Raphael and Michelangelo standing warily around his bedside. "Did you have that bad dream again?" Mike timidly inquired.

"…Yeah," Don admitted. He didn't say anything else about it. The turtle himself was still pondering what had happened. Was he really frightened of that other world? Looking within himself, Don ashamedly knew that he was getting used to that mental institution. That's why he found his situation so confusing. Seeing the Shredder pose as his so-called 'father' terrified Donatello. Yet, as always, the possibility sparked endless amounts of curiosity. He didn't know what to say to his turtle family. Some underlying need kept pulling him back to that humanised world – he wasn't ready to deny its entire existence. Not just yet.

"You've been unconscious for about three hours," Leo informed him. "We were getting worried," the blue-wearing turtle softly added.

"What happened?" Don inquired.

"You blacked out while I was speaking with you," Splinter said. Donatello remained quiet. He hated the fact that his family worried about him so much. What he loathed even more was how he doubted whether they were even real. Donatello knew that only one world was the correct one; that someone was toying with him… or he was just fooling himself. Either way he felt like a traitor.

A loud knock resonated around Donatello's concrete-walled bedroom. Compared with the abundant amount of silence, the noise rattled the turtles' senses, causing their bodies to jerk in alarm. It was Raphael who responded the quickest; opening the door to invite their large friend inside. "Donatello! It's good to see that you're awake," Leatherhead said, sounded relieved. The alligator stared at everyone else in the room. "I hope I didn't interrupt anything," Leatherhead worried.

"No, not at all," Splinter answered, encouraging the large reptile to continue.

"I thought you'd all like to know that April and I have cracked the disks," Leatherhead announced.

"Really?" Don was shocked, though a part of him felt guilty that he hadn't been well enough to help.

"What's on them?" Raphael questioned, just as impatient as everybody else in the room.

"I've only skimmed through some of the files, but so far we haven't found any information about what the Shredder's doing with all the alien technology he's been gathering," Leatherhead sadly reported.

"So we went through all that for nothing then?" Leonardo rhetorically asked, sounding rather disappointed.

"Well, no. Not exactly," the alligator said. The turtles stared at him intently, all wondering the same question. "There wasn't any information about the alien technology, but the disks do detail the Shredder's other projects."

"Like what?" Mike asked, feeling like he was being baited to ask for more.

"Information about his biological experiments. How he cloned and improved upon himself; his plans on mutating others into monsters. There's a lot of in-depth information on his smaller projects. One of them sounds similar to what Donatello seems to be experiencing," Leatherhead solemnly announced.

"What has Chaplin done to me?" Don dared to ask.

"Unfortunately the project is still in its experimental phase, so there wasn't that much on it. However what I did learn was that they are using a series of hallucinogens in order to recruit, or rather, involuntarily convert new members. The goal is to increase the number of people in their arsenal."

"So that's what Dr Chaplin meant… That injection really was a preparation fluid," Donatello whispered, speaking more to himself than to anybody else.

"But how does it work? What happens in these hallucinations?" Leonardo questioned.

"It didn't say. I'm not sure if this is what's happening to Donatello, but it was the closest report that I could find that's reasonably similar to his situation," the alligator answered honestly.

"Is there a cure?" Splinter calmly inquired.

"There is. It's a mixture that you can take which will supposedly end the hallucinations."

"But you're not sure if Don's suffering from this, right?" Raphael skeptically asked.

"That's right. But from looking at the components of the antidote, I recommend that he should be administered with it anyway. It shouldn't harm him, even if he isn't a part of this recruiting project," Leatherhead suggested.

"So, if those disks detail the ingredients needed, then can we make the cure here?" Leonardo wondered, swiftly coming up with the simplest solution.

"You could… but it would be difficult. Some of the rarer base elements are needed."

"So we steal it from one of the Shredder's labs." Leonardo didn't ask a question, but rather he made a determined decision.

"Guess we've got some more Chaplin ass kicking coming up!" Raphael sadistically grinned at the idea.

Splinter gave Raphael a disapproving frown at his student's choice of words. "Before we kick anyone's… posterior, I suggest that we all get some rest. We can continue this discussion later on tonight," Splinter advised the turtles, carefully picking his words.

"Yes, Master Splinter," all four turtles quietly responded in unison. Without saying another word, Don watched from his bed as his brothers, Splinter and Leatherhead quietly left his room, one by one.

* * *

It plagued his mind. He had to see it for himself. Donatello hurriedly scrolled through the disks, hoping to find what Leatherhead had been talking about. The turtle had been searching for about thirty minutes, just scanning his eyes across the massive piles of information. In front of him lay one report after another. At first he was mortified with what he read, learning that the Shredder truly was barbaric. However the longer he searched, the more he grew used to the horrors that lay within the text. 

His finger suddenly lifted off the mouse, causing his constant page-scrolling to cease. Something had finally caught his eye. Leatherhead was correct – there wasn't that much information on the experiment at all. In total, there seemed to be only two paragraphs. The first one focused on the hallucinogen and what its purpose was. The second paragraph detailed the components of the antidote. In the end, Donatello felt unsatisfied; Leatherhead had practically summarised all of it, meaning that there was no way to know for certain whether this was what Dr Chaplin had used.

Donatello was startled when Leonardo suddenly entered the vast open space of the lair. The two turtles stared at each other for a few moments. "What are you doing?" Leo inquired.

"I'm just going through these disks," Don casually answered, focusing his gaze once more on the computer screen.

"You should be getting some more rest," Leo advised him.

"I'm sick of sleeping. That's all I've been doing lately," Donatello grumped. Leonardo didn't argue, causing Don to figure that the blue-wearing turtle seemed to understand his predicament. "Besides, shouldn't you be in bed?" Don asked. It was only midday. However, to crime-fighting ninja turtles, day was night for them. Don had always wondered if they were naturally diurnal or nocturnal. Yet since they couldn't move about in the daytime, instead being forced to travel, scavenge and fight during the night, it seemed only fitting to sleep from sunrise to sunset. Of course, it was still rather hard to tell while living in the sewers. But all that changed when one day, years ago, Donatello introduced the wonderful invention of a clock to the rest of his family.

"I thought I might get in a few hours of training before everyone else wakes up," Leo answered. Not having much else to say to each other, both turtles went back to their separate tasks. Starting off with a couple of warm-up exercises, Leonardo quickly progressed to practicing a couple of punches and the movements involved with wrist locks. It wasn't long till Donatello grew distracted; then again the turtle was getting too tired to continue reading the seemingly endless pages of gruesome documents anyway. It took even less time for Don's mind to wander off completely, inevitably thinking about that other world.

Quietly pondering everything he had heard over the past couple of hours, a disturbing question started to plague the purple-wearing turtle. Was it all just too convenient? Here he was, experiencing bizarre and unexplainable illusions, comas and random black outs. Yet as soon as things started to make some sense in Don's mind, Leatherhead just casually summarised his condition before pointing out an antidote for all his problems. Is it too convenient for there to be a cure? Donatello had an inkling that he wasn't the only one in his family that felt that his dreams were far too complex to simply be hallucinations. Don assumed that if he did get injected because he was simply being recruited, then other victims would encounter similar fantasies. But was it even scientifically possible to invent a fluid that would cause such planned dreams and responses? Donatello never doubted the genius of Stockman and Chaplin, yet the turtle did have to question whether the whole injection theory was just a flimsy excuse his brain made up so that he could stay in his fantasy world. In an instant, being an insane human really seemed to be more plausible.

Donatello suddenly remembered what April had told him about finding a trigger. If what those doctors had been saying was true, then there was a fault, or rather an unanswerable question within his fantasy. Yet finding one was easier said than done. It was true that life naturally held some mysteries. Like how does something as simple as a bunch of neural impulses, nerves and chemicals form a brain – a complex organ capable of withholding a personality and a state of awareness? Or, for instance, what happened right at the very beginning of the Big Bang? Or why is it rare to see a baby pigeon when the species is so abundant? It was easy to find a question with no answer, however most of them would be too broad and general. Donatello had a much harder job – he had to find an unanswerable question that clearly determined what reality was real, and what one was false.

Don knew that it would be practically impossible to find this 'trigger', but he also needed to ease his own mind. All he wanted was to discover some sliver of doubt about his life as a turtle. So he began to think carefully, starting with his brothers.

Immediately he had trouble. How could he think badly about his brothers? Sure, they all had their own little faults and strengths, but nothing really came to Donatello's mind. So he began to concentrate more on their actual mutation. There was a single thing that had always baffled Donatello. '_Why on earth did that boy purchase not one, not two, but four turtle hatchlings?'_ Don thought to himself. Later the purple-wearing reptile figured that the child wanted to set up a breeding program, and therefore bought as many turtles as possible. Since it was so hard to tell the different between genders, the boy might have just purchased as many as he could get his hands on, in the hopes that he would get at least one male and female pair. '_Then again… maybe he just liked male turtles?' _Don sarcastically pondered. Once again, Donatello started to experience that odd feeling like everything seemed too planed; as though it was all just too much of a coincidence. Falling down the drain; all coming into contact with the ooze; getting found by Splinter; who in turn was indirectly related, through six degrees of separation, to the creatures who had created the glowing substance and their mutant existence in the first place. It truly was a remarkable and fanciful story. Yet Don couldn't deny his family, ninjitsu lifestyle and friends just because everything bordered on being incredibly coincidental.

Soon Donatello's thoughts wandered to Master Splinter. All of the turtles had always pondered over one detail in their teacher's life. If Splinter was originally just a normal pet rat, then how was he able to memorise Hamato Yoshi's ninjitsu moves? None of his brothers could come up with an answer, and no one wanted to ask their father personally. Somehow Donatello always figured that Splinter didn't know either. It wasn't until they had learnt about Yoshi's full involvement with the Utroms when a plausible answer could be proposed. Ironically it was Donatello who came up with a hypothesis to end the puzzle his brothers had been trying to solve over the years. Since Yoshi spent some time with the Utroms, the turtles thought that maybe he brought home trace elements of the ooze, which then transferred over to Splinter whenever he was fed, cleaned or played with. As far fetched as it was, Don and his brothers unanimously agreed that that was how Splinter had originally learned ninjitsu. While Don still found his father's story a little hard to believe, he still couldn't bring himself to deny his Master's entire existence.

Donatello was starting to feel rather defeated. Maybe he was wrong and that the mental institution was all just some wild hallucination? After all, he still didn't enjoy the fact that the Shredder was his blood-related father. Then again, if the people in that other version of reality didn't necessary act the same way as they did in normally, then what was Oroku Saki _really_ like? Why did he hate his human father so much? Oddly enough, Donatello started to feel remorse for the man. If his son really was in a mental institution, locked in some fantasy where he loathed his father and battled with him daily, then how would he feel? He must be a caring person if he's willing to continue helping and visiting his lost son. Who was this Oroku Saki?

That name had always sent shivers right around Donatello's shell. Don knew the 'man' to be a fearsome adversary. He was strong, smart and well equipped. It seemed that the Shredder even knew how to cheat death. Don's thoughts abruptly stopped for a few seconds. Why didn't the Shredder ever die? He had been crushed and thrown off a building, decapitated, burnt, sunk… and had even been caught in an implosion. Naturally Don figured that Shredder had survived so many times because he was wearing that sturdy human 'exoskeleton' suit. Yet, he still shouldn't have been able to survive Zog's attack on the Foot's ship and the implosion of TCRI. Donatello remembered one of the times Oroku Saki had 'died'. There was only one or two seconds left when the turtles had escaped the doomed TCRI building via the Transmat. The Shredder had no protection – he was crawling around in his Utrom form. After the implosion there was nothing left of the TCRI building… and yet their Machiavellian enemy survived. How did he escape with such little time? April and Casey had told them that no one else had used the Transmat after them. The Shredder couldn't travel fast with his stubby tentacles – he was too far away from any electronic device that could prove useful in saving his life. Yet he still managed to live on… Why?

Donatello's whole body froze in terror. He had found his trigger. The only answer he could come up with was that the Shredder kept on living because he wanted him to… He wanted someone to fight. He wanted to hate his father over and over again. There was no other logical explanation. Sure, the Shredder may have found some other way to escape during the very last millisecond, but how far should Donatello suspend his disbelief? Trying his best to remain calm, Donatello closed his eyes and thought through everything once again. Which reality was the nightmare, and what one was just the normal brutality of life? Donatello could no longer tell… All he knew was that he preferred to be human…

Leonardo stopped his training in order to view Donatello at his computer. The turtle gasped when Don slumped forward, resting his head against the monitor while his plastron pressed down on the keyboard. Leonardo frantically ran towards his brother, fearing the worst. "Donatello!" he screamed in panic.

"Donny?"

"Danny?"

Donatello blinked. April was in front of him, checking his vitals. He knew in an instant that he was human again. "You there?" April asked, wondering if her patient was actually conscious.

"Yeah… I'm awake," Donatello groggily answered. He sighed tiredly while April continued to note down some observations. "I want to speak with Dr Stockman," Donatello finally said. The woman stared at the bedraggled man for a few moments before obliging.

"I'll arrange a meeting immediately."

_To be continued… _


	6. Procedure

Chapter Six: Procedure.

Donatello nervously chewed his long fingernails while he waited for Baxtor Stockman to enter the office. He glanced at April standing attentively in the corner of the room. The woman stared back with a small frown on her face, obviously partially disgusted with his nail-biting habits. Yet although he never did it while he was a turtle, for some reason, when Donatello found himself in this foreign, human world, the man couldn't stop fidgeting. '_Maybe I am schizophrenic,'_ Donatello bitterly thought to himself, remembering that nail biting was a common behavior exhibited by people with the same condition as him.

Don quickly turned his head towards the sound of a doorknob turning. Baxtor Stockman, complete with two arms, a pair of legs and a head, entered. As he watched the doctor walk over to his desk, Donatello had to admit that it was incredibly surreal to see the man without any hideous abnormalities. Stockman gave Don a little smile before sitting in his seat and leaning forward on the desk; as though he was extremely interested in what mental patient had to say. "I take it that you're getting used to this place," Stockman stated, starting off the discussion.

"I am," Donatello admitted.

"So you no longer think I'm your enemy?" the doctor questioned.

"Well… you aren't now. But you are in my dreams," Don nervously answered, hoping he didn't upset the man. Instead, Stockman simply grinned in understanding. Donatello wondered if that was his way of laughing.

"As long as we can be friends now, I don't think whatever happens in your fantasy world really matters," Stockman said. Donatello appreciated the fact that the man was trying his best to make him feel comfortable in his surroundings, but he still couldn't ignore that tiny pang of guilt that he was dishonouring his family. "So why have you decided to see me all of a sudden? Why the change of heart?" Stockman wondered.

"I just wanted to learn more about myself… I want to be healthy again," Donatello admitted.

"Well done. Admitting you have a problem is a great first step in the recovery process," the scientist supported Don's words.

"So… what happens now?" Donatello asked.

"Danny, there's only so much that we can do. A lot of it is your responsibility," Stockman started to explain.

"I, I don't think I'm strong enough," Donatello faltered, knowing how many doubts gripped his subconscious.

"That's okay, we're here for you," April spoke up from her quiet spot in the corner of the office.

"She's right. We're not your enemies. In fact, in this world, you have no enemies whatsoever. Everyone's willing to help you, Danny. Now you just have to do your part," Stockman said, his words becoming very appealing to Donatello. As a turtle, he had always dreamed what it would be like to have no one to fight. The constant day-to-day fear he experienced just by simply being a mutant had gradually eroded and worn down his spirit. He was tired of being hunted. So incredibly tired. Now he had the chance to take a holiday from all the horror and chaos associated with being a teenage mutant ninja turtle. But there was one catch. It was permanent.

"So what exactly do I have to do?" Donatello warily inquired.

"You need to start detaching yourself from your fantasy," Stockman said rather bluntly. There was a look of confusion upon Donatello's face, but the expression was quickly followed with the hint of resounding fear.

"You mean… I have to kill them… Everyone?" Donatello asked, his voice hopelessly wavering. Once again he started to question whether or not he had made the right choice in seeking help in this bleak, hospitalised world.

"Not necessarily. You have to find a way that will work best for you. However, if the death of your so-called brothers means that you definitely won't return to your fantasy, then yes, you might have to consider it as an option," Stockman informed him.

"If you don't mind me interrupting…" April spoke up once again. "You've already tried to kill off your family. It's been attempted numerous times now. You got rather close to it last month, but in the end you simply weren't mentally strong enough. You have to be determined – no doubts," April advised. Donatello felt numb. Her words had made his heart yank and his skin chill and shiver with bad memories.

She was right; he had tried just recently. This wasn't the first time he had unexpectedly traveled to another world. There was another, in an unknown time or reality… at least he hoped it was an alternate universe and not simply some harsh warning of things yet to come. Unfortunately it seemed to be set in the future. Shredder controlled the world. His brothers were no longer young, but bitter and brutal instead. He remembered them all dying. One by one. How witnessing it snapped and tore at his heart till he too died, at least on the inside. Yet amongst all the death and destruction, Don couldn't deny that little shimmer of relief that fluttered inside his veins, like a bird that had been set free from its cage for the very first time. The feeling of impending doom had been vanquished. He no longer had to fight or hide any more. At last he could have peace. And April was there with him.

If what the scientists were saying was true, then Donatello was simply trying to snap out of his fantasy world by destroying the very things that held him in that place. April would have been incorporated from real life, and used in that circumstance to guide him through the separation phase. But obviously it was failure. He had invented another loophole, blamed the entire event on the war staff and time scepter, before meeting up with his brothers again as though nothing had ever happened. So once again, the Shredder wasn't killed, and his family never died, just like some never ending episodic dream.

"I don't think I can go through with this," Donatello admitted, starting to feel sick in his stomach.

"You have to, Danny," April urged him.

"Danny, you have to understand the amount of stress your body is under. The parts of the brain that control all of your physical functions and motor reflexes are at war with your subconscious. Your dream is eventually going to kill you. If you don't start getting active, you'll be reduced to being pushed about in a wheelchair. Your muscles need to be used and strengthened, and you can't do that if you're constantly catatonic!" Stockman lectured.

"Really?" Donatello didn't like what he hearing.

"Really. Trust me, your body is begging to be awakened. You just need to get your overriding, subconscious mind to accept that fact. Your condition may be unique, but it's also incredibly serious and life threatening," Stockman advised him, his voice taking on an extremely serious tone.

"I, I didn't know the mind could be so powerful," Don stuttered, almost beginning to be frightened by himself.

"Of course it is. There are many mental illnesses where the patient's body suffers as a result. Anorexia nervosa is one. A person's inner thoughts are so strong that they can convince themselves to starve. Bulimia is similar, where the mind convinces the victim to be physically sick. I once treated a patient who truly believed their soul had been invaded by demons, and as a result of that false blame, they ripped into their own skin and clawed at the walls till their fingers bled. So your mind, whether that is consciously or subconsciously, can play a huge role on your health," Stockman summarised.

"But… do I have to kill my brothers? I'm not sure I can do that."

"If you can, do it. If you don't need to, then don't. You just need to distance yourself from your make-believe world, using the most effective method you can think of," Stockman said with the hint of a wicked smirk.

"Okay. I'll try," Don softly agreed.

"No. That's not good enough. You've tried before. This time you must do it!" the male doctor urged him.

"Fine. I'll do it!" Donatello said, more determined.

"Good." Stockman was pleased.

"But… what if I can't wake up again?" Don wondered. Stockman and April gave each other a worried glance.

"Unfortunately, there's no guarantee that you will return to us," the man admitted. Donatello watched as Stockman paused for a few seconds while he rummaged through the drawers in his desk. With a little clack, the scientist popped open a small, cylindrical white container and shook out two capsules. "If you take this medicine, you should be more lucid," Stockman said, standing up and walking around the desk in order to hand him the pills. "I'll give you some water. I'll be back in a sec." With that, the man vacated the room, but Don knew that he'd return within the minute.

Donatello glanced at April and noticed that her gaze was focused on the door, awaiting Stockman's return. Very quickly, trying his best not to look conspicuous, Don snapped open the two capsules. With a tiny shake of his hand, he dumped the powdery contents on his lap, figuring that no one would notice once he stood up. He no longer knew what he was doing. It was as though he didn't want to commit or put a firm belief in either world. Taking medicine seemed too suspicious to him, though a part of him knew that schizophrenics had trust issues. Just as he had predicted, Stockman returned with a plastic cup of water in hand. "Here you go."

In one swift movement, Don placed the empty capsules towards the back of his tongue before taking a large gulp of water. Stockman saw him put something in his mouth, but the action was too fast for him to discover that the medicine had been tampered with. "Open up," Stockman instructed. Donatello allowed his mouth to be inspected, though naturally he had nothing to hide. "Good," Stockman smiled. "We should take you back to your room now."

Donatello's mind began to drift. He wondered if the trace elements of that medicine had any affect on him, or if he was just simply tired. In this world, he was never awake for too long. Two men supported his body from either side and helped him to walk back to his padded cell. By the time he got there, his vision had already blackened. Focusing his mind, Don knew where he wanted to wake up.

"Donny? You awake?" Leonardo quietly asked.

Donatello groaned slightly as he sat up in his bed. He knew that he'd be safe in his bedroom, however his entire family wasn't there – only Leonardo. "Yeah, I'm up," Don tiredly answered.

"You shouldn't scare me like that," Leo said, though he gave his brother a small smile. Don simply nodded in return.

"How long was I out?"

"Only an hour."

"Really? It felt like ages," Donatello murmured.

"I haven't told the others about what happened. I figured you needed your rest," Leo explained.

"I appreciate that," Don said with a faint smile.

"Don? I've been thinking… I really don't think you should come with us when we break into Chaplin's lab," Leonardo said. He was using his 'leader voice', the one that would make Raphael cringe every time that tone was used.

"But why?" Just like Raph in those circumstances, Don also felt the sudden urge to yell out in defiance.

"Don, you need to think realistically here. What happens if you fall unconscious in the middle of the mission? How will we get you out of there? I'm just saying that you shouldn't feel obliged to come; that it's okay to stay behind. Leatherhead's willing to come as well, so you don't have to worry about us grabbing the wrong ingredients for the antidote," Leonardo expressed his concerns. Donatello stayed silent for a few moments, seriously thinking over his brother's words.

"Leo? What would you do in my situation? Honestly now?"

Leonardo sighed. "I would go," he admitted, giving Don a little, sheepish grin.

Donatello laughed. "Then I guess I'm going! I think I've got more control over the blackouts now anyway." His body froze when a soft knock was heard at his door.

"Come in!" Leonardo called. Slowly but surely the door creaked open, revealing a very curious orange-wearing turtle. Michelangelo stepped inside completely when he realised that everyone one was awake anyway.

"Splinter was wondering where you were, Leo," Mike said.

"Just spending time with Don, that's all."

"Did you get a good sleep?" Michelangelo asked Donatello.

"Yeah, I guess," Don muttered, remembering the conversation he held with Stockman.

"Cool! Everyone's up now, and Splinter wants to start organising our little shindig tonight. So when you're ready, come out to the living room," Mike passed on his message. With a hop in his step, Mike bounded out of the room.

"Shindig? He considers sneaking into the Shredder's high-tech, lethal facility and robbing from his labs a shindig? Out of curiosity… what does he call a picnic?" Donatello mused, pushing down his covers and climbing out of his bed. Leo grinned and shrugged before making his way out to the rest of his family with Don following close behind.

"Glad to see you're finally awake," Splinter greeted Donatello.

"Sorry, Sensei. I let him sleep in a little bit," Leo aplogised, not telling his father the entire truth. The wise rat gave his two sons a nod of understanding before turning to address all of the turtles.

"Now about tonight, does anyone have any ideas on how to get this antidote?" Splinter queried.

"We could always try using the air vents again. It worked last time," Leo suggested.

"Except for the part where Donny got captured," Mike interrupted.

"That plan has been done to death, Leo! Shredder will see it coming a mile away!" Raphael heavily criticised.

"I'm afraid Raphael is right. It's not wise to use the same form of entry twice, as we lose that all-important element of surprise," Splinter surmised. Leonardo grunted, slightly peeved that his father had agreed with Raph for once.

"Well I guess that means we should leave the Battle Shell out of this. We've done that tactic before," Raphael mentioned.

"I just want to grab the antidote, either pre-made or in its separate ingredients, and then get the shell out of there. I don't feel like messing with the Shredder, not this time," Leonardo announced his intentions.

"You have no arguments there," Raph remarked while the others agreed.

"Every building by law has to have a fire escape, right?" Mike asked.

"Yeah…" Leo urged him to continue.

"So why don't we just use the stairs?" Mike wondered. Raphael leaned sideways and slapped the back of Mikey's head. "What?" Mike whined. "It worked on Final Fantasy VII!"

"I don't want to enter from the bottom of the building, because that'll mean we'll have to ascend all of the floors… and you all know what kind of weird and wonderful things Shredder likes to keep," Don said, referring to their previous escapades.

"Still, the elevator shaft could be an option, albeit a dangerous one," Leo suggested.

"What about entering from the rooftop? If Don rigs us all up with hang gliders, we should be able to start from there," Raph wondered.

"But where will we start the glide from? Being up that high, the winds will get really dangerous as well," Don worried.

"Why can't we just walk through the front door? At least no one will be expecting that," Mike said. Everyone gave him a blank look. Once again, Raph slapped the back of his head.

"What is wrong with you?" Raphael asked.

"It worked in Final Fantasy VII," Mike muttered under his breath while he rubbed his newly formed bruise.

"You know… we could enter on the side of Shredder's skyscraper," Don started.

"What do you mean? How?" Leo questioned.

"Trust me. I just need a few things, like harnesses, harpoons, and explosives."

"Ooh! Explosives," Raph was already interested.

"So do you know what you're doing?" April asked, though her voice sounded like Leonardo. Don lifted his unshaved face and stared at the female scientist in the eyes, almost blinded by the whiteness of her lab coat. He was back in his padded cell.

"I have a fair idea. At least I'm committed," Don said.

The turtles fell silent, rather perplexed by Don's choice of words. Leonardo was especially worried, considering for a moment it seemed that Don had mentally slipped somewhere else. Splinter could sense the peculiarity as well. "Um… that's good to know," Leo uttered.

"Donatello? Are you well enough to go?" Splinter questioned.

"I'm fine. Trust me on this."

* * *

The night was a cold one, but Donatello felt they were lucky that it wasn't windy as well. Shredder's skyscraper was located in the busy throng of New York City. The building might have been one of the tallest around, but it was by no means alone. As part of Don's plan, the turtles sneaked into the closest skyscraper they could find situated next to Shredder's. Since it was just a normal office building, that task was simple, and for once the turtles found it rather relaxing not having to worry about monsters on certain floors or battling henchmen after henchmen, after henchmen. In the end, Splinter and Leatherhead had decided not to come, mainly so they could play the role of being the rescuers should none of the turtles return after a set number of hours.

The office building was only three-quarters of the height of Shredder's but it served its purpose. They knew that the lab they wanted, Chaplin's, was on the thirty-third floor. So, with the adjacent building, the turtles ascended to the thirty-seventh, following Don's precise instructions. The offices were vacant and the main lights were turned off; obviously all the workers had returned home for the night. Not wasting any time, Donatello used a laser and cut into one of the many thick windows. Shredder's illuminated skyscraper stood directly opposite from their position.

With a mutant turtle-sized hole in the window, Don carefully aimed at Shredder's skyscraper, counted four floors down, and shot off an arrow tipped with a suction cup from a harpoon gun. Don cheered silently when the arrow stuck to the side of the foreboding building. Yet there was more to it than that. The end of the arrow was attached to a wire, which now ran from the side of Shredder's skyscraper upwards four floors, through the cut glass of the office building, before originating from the harpoon gun in Don's grip.

"So what's the idea behind this?" Leo asked in a whisper, just wanting to make sure that all the details were clear in his mind.

"With a wire, I've just linked this building with Shredder's," Don commented.

"Yeah, I can see that. But what next?" Leo wondered. The other three turtles nervously watched as Don hooked up a rocket to the wire.

"You know those explosives I mentioned?"

"Yeah…" Leo answered.

"Well, this is it," Don said, pointing the rocket.

"Don? What are you doing?" Leo was getting worried.

"This rocket is filled with gunpowder and other flammable materials, hence it is an explosive. The rocket is attached to a clip, and the clip is in turn attached to the wire. Therefore, since we shot the wire at a downward angle, the rocket will slide downwards, powered faster from the burning fuse, which I'm about to light. Now when this rocket hits the side of Shredder's building-"

"-It'll blast out the window of Chaplin's lab," Leo finished Don's belittling explanation.

"Correct. Then I'll shoot another wire through the newly created hole, which we'll then use the harnesses we brought with us in order to slide on in there, flying fox style," Don summarised.

"…Cool," Raph said simply.

"I wanna see a big boom," Mike giggled with excitement. Raph slapped him on the back of the head. "Hey! What was that one for?" Mike whined, rubbing his sore spot, beginning to get paranoid about whether he'd get a lump or not.

Raphael shrugged. "It's just a natural reflex now," he smirked.

"Alright, everyone stand back a bit. I'm lighting the fuse now," Don warned his brothers. Suddenly scared, Leo, Mike and Raph jumped back a couple of feet. With a bright spark, the rocket launched forwards, following the course of the wire. It cascaded downwards, getting faster and faster with the pull of gravity. In the total of one second, contact had been made between the rocket and the window to Chaplin's lab.

All the turtles gasped as the shock of the explosion could be felt reverberating through their shells. The bang was so powerful that even some windows a few floors up on Shredder's skyscraper had shattered. For a second, it looked like the entire building had shook; the sound had rung out into the headlight-filled streets, and echoed around the manmade wind tunnels of the city. A small fire had started on the floor they had been aiming at, but Don didn't seem to be too worried about that minor detail. He had on purposely added extra gunpowder to the explosive. He wanted to feel the shock; to hear the sound; to see the flames. He craved that excitement. But he mostly wanted to feel alive – to see if the shock was powerful enough to snap him out of his dream, that is, if everything was false to begin with. Yet the explosion was spectacular and the event was incredibly real and detailed. But after all that, Don still had some doubts residing in his mind.

"Don?" Leo exclaimed. "We want to sneak into the lab! Not blow it up!" Leonardo started to freak out.

"Sorry Leo," Don said, sounding eerily apathetic. "I just wanted a big boom," he added, using Michelangelo's simple choice of words.

_To be continued…_


	7. Conclusion

A/N: This is the final chapter. Once again, I do not own any of the characters. I'm merely borrowing them so that they can be pawns in my wicked games. :P

Chapter Seven: Conclusion. 

Calm and focused, Donatello reloaded the harpoon gun. Exhaling his breath while he steadied his aim, Don fired. A wire beautifully flung through the air, being led by a sharp, heavy metal arrow. The turtles could barely see it in the flames of the fire, but they could tell when the arrowhead had made its mark, burying itself amongst the concrete tiles of the floor. Pulling and tugging the wire tight, making sure it would serve its purpose, Don instructed Michelangelo to remove the wire from the harpoon gun so he could tie the end off.

"Where's that backpack we brought?" Don wondered, already moving on to the next step of the plan. Raph, still mesmerised by the explosion, suddenly snapped out of his daydream.

"I have it. Geez, I almost completely forgot about it," Raphael said, slightly shocked that he had completely tuned out for minute. Receiving the bag, Donatello started to rummage through it, tediously pulling out and untangling the four harnesses he had packed for their trip.

"Okay, put one of these on," Don said as he handed out a harness to each of his brothers.

"Don, are you sure this is gonna be safe?" Leonardo worried, staring skeptically at the cluster of straps and buckles in his hands.

"Yes. We'll be fine. Those straps are supposedly strong enough to withstand the weight of a car," Don dismissed Leo's concerns.

"Oh man! This rides up!" Mike started to whine as he tightened up the straps around his waist and thighs.

"Deal with it, Mikey!" Don said, starting to become impatient with everyone's grumbling. After he had prepared himself, Donatello zipped up the backpack and slipped it over one shoulder. "Now when you've secured all of the straps, making sure to double them over so you don't slip out, hook yourself to the wire, like this," Don demonstrated. His brothers looked on as Don raised the only strap that wasn't wrapped around his body, before snapping the large metal clip at the end of it onto the zip line. "Now when you tighten the clip, don't twist it all the way to the top. Rather turn it two or three times, and when it's really tight, give it a half-twist back. Otherwise your clip may jam when you try to detach yourself from the wire at the other end," Don continued to instruct.

Raphael unappreciatively rolled his eyes. "Don, you're acting like we've never done this before," Raph scoffed. "Take it easy, will ya?"

"Well then, I guess I'll see you over there," Don said. The turtles watched as Donatello leaped out of the window. They held their breath as they watched their brother rapidly slide down the line. It was a fast, steep slope, and Donatello had managed to pick up a lot of speed. They could hear the clip rubbing violently against the wire. Traveling at a fast pace, Don flew straight through the flames, landing safely in the Shredder's skyscraper. It looked like the landing was somewhat rough on the feet, but the main thing was that he had made it.

"This looks fun," Raph gruffly commented.

"Cowabunga dudes!" Mike explained, earning himself yet another slap upside the head from Raphael. Once Don had unclipped himself on the other side, Michelangelo practically dived out of the window. Leo groaned when the orange-wearing turtle started to show off on his descent by striking a number of classic poses, such as mimicking Superman.

"Idiot," Raph muttered under his breath as he leapt next. Leo finally took his turn afterwards, taking up the rear.

The sight the turtles were greeted with was horrific. Within a second of observing their surroundings, the turtles knew that this was no ordinary lab. Crimes had been committed there. They weren't exploring science; instead they were performing gross injustices against the natural world. After slinging off the backpack and dumping it onto the ground, the first thing Donatello noticed about the room was the shelves. There seemed to be over a hundred of them. Cabinets filled with jars lined the walls, stretching back so far that the light from the flames couldn't reach the end of the room. Everything from blackened city-living human lungs to the decapitated head of a dog was suspended in fluid and placed on display. The shelves were lined with these odd and disturbing dissected subjects.

But that wasn't the most of it. Halfway down the room, what looked liked slabs of meat hung from the ceiling. But the specimen was neatly sliced, and encased in what looked like plastic. Morbidly curious, Don walked closer to inspect it. He gasped when he realised it was human. Don could only gawk in horror and intrigue. A human had been sliced vertically at small, regular intervals, before being preserved in Perspex. It was a disturbing display. Don could see everything; the layers of skin resolving into muscle tissue, ligaments and bone; vertical cross-sections of a human's organs. Staring at the hanging body-length dissections, Don made a discovery. The spinal column and brain had been removed.

"What… what is that?" Mike was almost afraid to ask.

"This is Stockman's body…" Don shuddered.

"So this is what the Shredder did to him?" Leonardo disapproved.

"It might have been his own doing. When you die, in your will you can state if you want your body to be donated towards science. Well… I guess Stockman got his wish," Don murmured, hypothesising a likely scenario.

"Why would anyone want this?" Raph hissed in disgust.

Donatello shrugged. "How do you think doctors, nurses and physical therapists study the human body? I guess donating your body to science is just returning the favour. It's just in Stockman's case, Shredder twisted things to his liking," Don assumed.

Disturbed and grossed out, a few seconds of silence flitted amongst the four turtles. Looking back the way they came, Don frowned when he realised that the fire was starting to become a problem. Smoke was streaming along the ceiling, building up in the room, even though the majority of it leaked outside. Don could only imagine what a spectacle Shredder's skyscraper must have been for bystanders on the sidewalk. But the smoke wasn't the only problem. A couple of flames were growing in ferocity, edging along some of the shelves. Donatello started to regret creating such a large explosion in the first place. Now it was obvious that they had to speed up their search, especially if they wanted to find the ingredients for the antidote before it was engulfed in flames. "Okay… Let's start this," Don ordered his brothers.

Leonardo nodded in agreement. "Stay strong, Danny." Donatello blinked in confusion. April now stood in front of him, though her voice sounded like Leo at first. He was back at the mental institution, in his padded cell. The transitions were getting smoother; less obvious. Don was disorientated for a couple of seconds.

"I, I don't know what's happening next…" he admitted.

"Yes you do. You know what must be done. Just keep focused," April advised him.

"Okay… I'll try," Don said. Before he knew it, he was back in the burning building.

Leonardo looked at him skeptically again. To him it seemed that his purple-wearing brother had answered his own question. "Let's make this quick," Leo added, seriously wanting to medicate Donatello.

All four of them started to rummage through the drawers and shelves. "Eew," Raph muttered when he came across a brain in a jar.

"Is this where you had your lobotomy done?" Mike joshed, elbowing Raph.

"Ha. Ha," Raph said sarcastically. "Keep searching," he grumped afterwards. Raphael's head alertly whipped around when he heard the sound of people coughing. "I guess we've got ourselves some company," he muttered softly to Michelangelo. Sure enough, some Foot ninjas emerged from the darkened end of the room. Obviously they had heard the explosion and had come to check things out.

With the flames of the fire behind them, making Mike and Raph only silhouettes in the night, the pair rushed forwards, weapons at the ready. Three in total, their enemies weren't flunkies. Instead they were highly qualified people Shredder had employed to work in his science facilities. Naturally knowing ninjistu was part of their job description. One withdrew a weapon with two scimitars attached to either end of a handle. Another produced a sword, while the last opponent wore a gauntlet not unlike Shredder's. Although dangerous, Raph couldn't help but grin at the challenge presented before him.

Raphael took on the one with the joined scimitars. He closed the distance, and at the first opportunity, Raph locked a sai either end, preventing the Foot member from harming him with the blades. They stood eye to eye for a moment; the enemy grunting in effort to try and unlock his weapon from Raph's prongs. The Foot member got annoyed, let his scimitars dangle in the turtle's grasp, and smacked him in the jaw with a solid punch. Raph reeled back, more from shock than from pain. Unfortunately the man managed to untangle his weapon in that short period of time, and decided to quickly follow through with a downward slash of one of the scimitars. Raphael instinctively blocked the attack with a sai, once again entwining a prong around it. Yet the other scimitar was still free, and since the two scimitars were joined together by the handle, the man had no other option but to slash upwards. Raph didn't have time to dodge it completely, but he did have time to lean slightly to his right. Placing all of his weight on the right, his lifted his left leg, precariously keeping it just a millisecond above the rising blade.

Raph knew that there was a limit to his flexibility and that eventually the scimitar would slice into the underside of his thigh. The harness that he still wore also hindered his maneuverability. Yet luckily he still had a sai entangled with the other end of the weapon, and since both blades were connected, he could therefore have some control over its positioning. So with his left leg straight up beside his head, practically standing in a vertical version of the splits, Raph yanked the top scimitar towards himself. This caused the bottom scimitar to travel in the reverse direction; towards the Foot ninja. Raph grinned sadistically when he heard the sickening squelch of the lower blade imbedding itself into the top of his enemy's right kneecap. Before the man could react, Raph twisted his hips, and with his already-raised left leg, he finished the human off with a roundhouse kick to the temple. In reality, the entire confrontation had only lasted a couple of seconds.

Michelangelo, on the other hand, had two opponents. The Foot ninja armed with a gauntlet came first, quickly followed by the man holding a long sword. Twirling his nunchucks, Mike expertly wrapped a chain around the extended gauntlet. He had to be fast as the sword-wielder was already making his first swipe. Practically controlling the person's entire arm with his nunchuck, Mike yanked him sideways, forcing the gauntlet to block the sword. He chuckled; he loved it when he got his enemies to fight against each other. Michelangelo swiftly proceeded by kicking his trapped 'friend' in the gut. The turtle knew that his enemy would be occupied for the next few seconds. Now Mike could focus solely on the sword expert.

The large bladed weapon was raised again to make another downward slash. Once more, Mike used his nunchucks for grappling. A chain snaked around the blade of the sword, and with a strong flick of his wrist, Mike attempted to disarm his opponent. Yet the Foot ninja held on tightly to his weapon; he wasn't going to give it up that easily. Mike gasped in surprise when the gauntlet-wearing man had recovered faster than he had predicted; the turtle just barely missing a spiky punch to the face. With another yank of his nunchuck, he controlled the sword, forcing it to hit and block another oncoming strike from the man armed with the bladed bangle. With so much force behind both attacks, the sword swiftly slid down the gauntlet, accidentally descending at an odd angle, slicing into the fingers that lived underneath the plated armour of the forearm.

The Foot ninja wearing the Shredder-like gauntlet screamed in pain, clutching his injured hand with the other. Blood dribbled down, splattering onto the floor. Mike even started to wonder if he had lost a finger entirely. Being so distracted, Michelangelo found it easy to whack his spare nunchuck at the man's head, putting him out of his misery. Stunned that he had hurt his accomplice, Michelangelo dealt with the sword-wielder by quickly disarming him. It seemed he didn't have such a tight hold on the sword this time around. In one smooth movement, Mike closed the gap, kneed the ninja in the stomach, and when he doubled over, he smacked the base of his neck with an elbow. The human dropped to the floor in a heap.

Leonardo watched the fight from a distance. He could have joined in, but he knew that Raph and Mike were more than capable of doing the job. Instead, he continued to search for the ingredients. "Um, Don? Any idea of what it could look like?" He asked as he scanned his eyes over a bunch of stacked bottles in a cupboard. "Don?" Leo called out. He turned around and spotted his brother. Donatello was just standing there, in the middle of the room. The turtle's gaze seemed to be fixed on Raph and Mike as they fought. "Donatello?" Leo called again. He began to wonder if Don was stuck in some sort of trance. "Danny?"

Donatello finally took notice of Leonardo. He felt as if he was miles away, and the voice of April had brought him back. Yet April was nowhere to be seen, even though he could have sworn he had heard her. Leonardo was there instead, his body being gently illuminated by the flames of the nearby fire. Don clutched his forehead with a hand, really starting to feel confused. "What the heck is going on here?" Don had thought the same thing, but it was someone else who had spoken those words. Looking back towards Raphael and Michelangelo, Don witnessed Dr Chaplin enter the room.

Without thinking, Raphael rushed forwards. He snatched up the scientist's body and pinned him against the nearest wall. Holding him steadily by the shoulders, Raph glared Chaplin in the eyes. "What did you do to Donny?" Raph growled. He shifted his grip, removing Chaplin from the wall before slamming him back into it.

"It, it was just an injection-"

"-What did you do?" Raphael interrupted, trying to get some information out of the man.

"N, nothing serious," Chaplin quibbled.

"If you don't spit out the answer, I'll shove this sai up your nasal passage!" Raph threatened, whipping out a sai with one hand in order to intimidate the man further.

"Raph! Quit it!" Leo commanded as he bolted over. "We might need him! We won't get any information out of him if he's dead!"

"I'm not stupid, Leo!" Raph growled, still maintaining his hold on Chaplin.

"Leo!" Mike called out in panic. The turtles watched as another figure emerged from the dark depths of the room. It was Baxter Stockman. He didn't have a mechanical suit. He was just a brain in a jar, like many of the other specimens that lined the walls. The turtles stopped to stare at him, as if they were expecting some kind of response. But none came. Instead he just hovered there for a few moments, observing the scene.

"Oh, don't mind me," Stockman finally spoke up, his voice originating from electronic equipment, since his body was incapable of creating noise on its own. "Kill Dr Chaplin. See if I care," the floating brain added.

"Baxter Stockman!" Dr Chaplin gasped in Raphael's tight grip; quite surprised by his mentor's attitude, even though the floating organ had repeatedly plotted to kill the younger scientist for over a month.

To Don, it seemed as though he was there in the thick of the action, and yet at the same time he wasn't. The burning realm was like a thin veil that had been placed over his eyes, though at the same time he could see and hear the happenings of the mental institution underneath. In a blink, he was there. The room was a stark white, especially after spending so long in a darkened science facility. Once again his limbs felt horribly weak. His was sitting on the ground in a clump, in the corner of the room. He groaned in anguish as he rested the back of his head against the padded walls. "Baxter Stockman," he heard the name being repeated in this world and the next. April stood in front of him like always, though this time she was welcoming Stockman inside the room.

"Any progress?" the man wondered.

"I think he's getting there," April assessed.

"Carry on then." Donatello didn't know which Stockman had said that. The non-mutilated scientist, or the hideous brain? It seemed as though both had said it at the same time. Don shuddered. The two worlds were merging, making it impossible to know the difference.

Stockman backed away, disappearing into the dark, choosing to ignore what was happening to Dr Chaplin. Leonardo wondered if they should go after him anyway, just in case the dissected man alerted Shredder of their presence. Michelangelo returned to searching the room, while Leonardo was torn between completing the mission or keeping Raph in check. Like before, Donatello stood as though he was in a trance, just completely undecided on what to do.

"Danny?"

Donatello looked towards the door to his padded cell. Oroku Saki stood there. His father. His presence sent shudders through his frail body. "I invited your father over," Stockman explained. "I thought it might be nice to have a family member guide you through this process," he ended his reasoning. Oroku Saki gave Donatello a gentle smile. Don could see the sadness in his eyes, the echo of loneliness in his stance, and most of all, the subtle hints that showed that the man did indeed love his estranged son.

"How is he going?" Saki quietly asked as he stepped into the room.

"Alright, I think," April murmured.

"I'm so confused," Donatello whispered mostly to himself.

"Just take your time, Danny. There's no rush," Saki calmly advised his son. "You hear me, Danny?" The man asked, feeling as if his son was in another world. "Danny?"

"Donny?"

"Danny?"

"Donny?"

"DONNY!"

A scream from Michelangelo jolted Don's senses. Oroku Saki was in front of him. Not the kind-hearted man, but instead the cold-blooded killer. Donatello haphazardly rolled away just in time to avoid his neck being sliced off by the Shredder's bladed armour. Still dazed from jumping back and forth between fantasies, he wasn't fast enough to dodge the sweeping kick the villain followed up with. He grunted in pain as he slid across the floor. Mike was by his side in an instant.

"What happened then? You didn't move! I thought you had been hypnotised or something!" Mike worried, helping his brother to stand up. Donatello rubbed his head. He felt like he had missed minutes of action. Dr Chaplin was still conscious, though he was huddling against the wall. Raphael and Leonardo meanwhile had stepped forward, getting ready to confront Shredder.

"I can't believe it! You're actually going to fight! I thought you would have been lazy like always and just send out your crappy goons!" Raph commented, twirling both sai in preparation.

"Don't encourage him!" Leo muttered angrily to his brother. He certainly didn't want to deal with Shredder's elite guard or Hun.

"Never send a pawn to do a king's job," Shredder answered as a threat. He stood still, eerily almost, not even bothering to enter into a fighting stance. Taking their chances, Raphael and Leonardo rushed forwards. Like an unstoppable machine, Shredder made short work of their conjoined attack. He snatched up Raphael as though he was mere kitten, and, holding him solely by the top rim of his shell, he threw the red-wearing turtle into Leonardo's path. Both turtles fell to the ground, sliding back a few feet. Michelangelo moved from Don's side in order to construct his own attack. The turtle whipped around his nunchucks, but Shredder managed to grab onto the opposite end of one of them.

Even before it occurred, Donatello knew that Mike was going to be tossed like a bucket full of garbage. But how did he know that? Was what he was witnessing really just a bunch of fantasy characters, dueling it out in his mind? Could he really orchestrate everything that was going on? Was this really what he had to do; was it what he wanted? Or did he just know that Mike was going to be thrown because he was used to the Shredder's fighting style?

Michelangelo heavily hit the side of the wall, crashing into several shelves as he made his descent back to the tiled floor. The shelves cracked and split, falling on top of the defeated turtle. Jars and contained specimens crashed to the floor, their disgusting contents piling on top of Mike's fallen body. The orange-wearing turtle realised what had happened a few seconds after hitting the ground. He jumped up and did an odd dance, attempting to peel off all the creepy things that had fell on him. "Gross, gross, gross, gross, GROSS!" Mike freaked out. The expertly dissected nervous system of a rabbit sat on Mike's shoulder. Its furry, fern-like red and blue veins could be delicately seen. Mike stared at it as though he had just grown a second head. "GROSS!" he screamed again, slapping it off his body, destroying the fragile specimen in the process.

By that time Leonardo was already making his second move. Katana drawn, he clashed with Shredder, making a series of blocks and strikes. For a moment he believed he had Shredder on the retreat, yet a sneaky swipe of his metal foot changed the outcome of their short battle. Feet swept from underneath him, Leonardo fell backwards onto his carapace. Shredder heavily slammed a foot onto his plastron, pressing his body painfully into the ground. Raphael tried to assist his brother, but he was abruptly whacked away. "Don! Don, help me!" Leo grunted, trying his best to reach one of his katana that had slid out of his grasp.

But Donatello couldn't move. He couldn't take his eyes off the sight in front of him. Everything was so surreal that Don thought that it must all have been a dream. Surely none of this was happening. Surely he wouldn't just sit there while his brother and leader died in front of him. Was this what needed to be done? Could he say goodbye to a person in this fashion? A person who he adored with all his heart? It wasn't Leonardo that was dying; rather it was Donatello. A part of him was lost in the haze of desire, love and despair. It felt real, but was it really? What was the definition of reality anyway? What did he exist as?

It was Michelangelo who rescued Leo in the end. He performed a double-footed flying kick; a kamikaze move that sacrificed a decent landing, although since he had his entire body behind the attack, it was a powerful choice. Shredder was knocked off balance long enough for Leo to escape and for Mike to recover from his organised fall.

Donatello was scared. How could he have behaved like that? In an instant, he knew the ultimate truth to his dilemma. Effectively, by hanging back and doing nothing, if his family died, then it would be in order to save himself. That is, if the other world was real. Yet if he fought alongside his brothers, helping them to live on, then his body would slowly shut down and die. Of course, once again, that was if the other world was the true one. Ultimately it was a choice of other people's lives or self-preservation. It wasn't an easy decision, especially when every fact seemed to be skewered or tampered with. There was only one option left that Donatello could take that would ensure a definite result.

He bolted towards the flames of the fire, returning to where the wire had imbedded itself into the ground. The gigantic hole in the side of the building he had created loomed in front of him. Coughing, Don carefully edged his way forwards and looked down into the glittering streets below. If he fell, death would be imminent. His shell would shatter; his skull would crack like an egg. Was this the only answer? He had always heard that if you died in your dreams, then you would die in real life…

Leonardo was alarmed when he saw Don precariously teeter near the edge. "Don! What are you doing?" Leo cried out. Distracted, he copped a punch in the shoulder from Shredder. He staggered back a few paces, his arm burning in pain.

"It's the only way Leo!" Don shouted back.

"What is?"

"I'm the only one who can end this!" Don sadly responded. Raphael overheard his answer.

"Don! What are you thinking?" Raph barked, worried about his brother's sanity.

"I don't know who I am anymore," Don whispered, his voice not carried beyond the roar of the surrounding flames. The fire was so close. The heat felt so real. Flames practically licked at his heels, but Don didn't know whether he should move away or experience the so-called make-believe pain. How could he ever decide what world was real? If he were wrong in his choice, then someone would lose, whether it be his family -human or mutant, or himself in the war against his mental illness. Donatello didn't want to see anyone suffer. So he figured that neither world should have him. He would end his life in both, negating the need to choose.

Donatello looked over the edge once again. The cold night air blew gently over his face, giving him a quick break from breathing in all of the smoke. "DON!" The yell made the turtle jolt in surprise. He turned around to see Leo a few steps away; Raph and Mike were dealing with Shredder. "Take my hand, Donny. You don't want to do this," Leo tried to convince him. Timidly stepping forward, hoping not to scare him into jumping, Leo extended his hand as an invitation.

"Leo… How do I know that you're not simply a figment of my imagination that's refusing to die?" Don questioned.

"Snap out of this, Don!" Leo angrily said. "You just _know_. Don't tell me that you haven't got a clue as to what is the truth!"

"I don't, Leo! I really don't! That's why I can't choose. That's why I have to take this option. I can't bear the thought of making a mistake!" Donatello sputtered. By looking into his eyes, Leo knew that Don really didn't want to commit suicide. He was crying out for help, begging for an answer.

"But you are making a decision, Don!" Leo interjected. Donatello listened intently. "If you jump off this building, then you really _are_ a nutcase!" Don looked away. He knew what Leo said was true. "Now step away from there, please," Leonardo softly demanded, his hand still extended.

"I'm sorry, Leo… I don't want to keep hurting people…" Don whispered. He was scared that his brother would change his mind. He was mentally weak, and through some bizarre amount of reasoning, he honestly believed that this was the correct course of action. He peered over the edge once more, still trying to make up his mind.

Leo's eyes went wide. Donatello really wasn't thinking clearly. "But you are hurting us!" Leo said. "I can live with a cracked shell. I can even live without both legs. But don't ask me to try and live without you!" Leonardo stepped forward, his hand trying to grab his brother's. Donatello blinked in shock. He knew his brother was making perfect sense. Relying simply on instinct, Don took Leo's hand in his, allowing himself to be pulled away from the edge of the sheer drop and the burning debris.

"Don't be like that! Stay strong!" April urged him, getting quite scared about what she was hearing from Don. He had been muttering in his dreams. Listening to her words forced him to snap awake, back in the foreign human world.

"Remember everything that we've told you," Stockman calmly advised his patient. Donatello blinked, still shocked over what he had considered doing.

"Danny!" Oroku Saki couldn't control his outburst. He rushed forwards, wanting to embrace his son, but Stockman held him back.

"Maybe we shouldn't have him in here," Stockman said to April, referring to how agitated Don's father was getting.

"Danny!" Saki cried out again. He pushed past Stockman's grip, and despite April's pleas for him not to come any closer, the elderly man grabbed his son, pulling him into a tight hug. "Don't leave me!" he whispered into Don's ear.

"DONNY!"

A large shout ripped through Donatello's senses. He could still feel his father's embrace. It was tight. Too tight. Soon Don wondered if he would be able to breathe. Two red eyes glared at him from under a metal helmet. Oroku Saki was definitely holding him, but it was his enemy instead.

Donatello wanted to vomit due to being so disorientated. It seemed a few minutes had passed since Leonardo had pulled him from the edge of the building. All of his brothers had been either kicked, punched of flung against the walls; all of them dealing with their own pain. Donatello sucked in another agonising breath. Shredder was indeed hugging him, although his intentions were to squeeze the life out of his reptilian body. Don's arms were pinched by his sides. His legs dangled helplessly in the air. He could feel the strain against his scutes as Shredder pressed him harder and harder against his giant metallic chest.

Donatello felt as though he was slipping into unconsciousness, but he was really traveling back into the other realm. Oroku Saki, his father, caressed his face. Don didn't whether he should be comforted or repulsed.

The tremendous strain across his back forced him to see the metal face of his nightmares. His feet experienced a sense of weightlessness.

"Stay with me, Danny," Saki said softly, looking into his son's confused gaze.

"Prepare to die," Shredder announced. His enemy's metallic, almost hollow voice riveted through his eardrums.

"I'm going to die!" Donatello gasped in his human father's embrace.

"Danny, look at me!" he ordered. Don's fearful eyes locked onto his father's; the same man that had only ever shown him kindness in the short amount of time Don had known him. "Danny… Deep inside, you know who your family is. If you can't trust me, then trust your instincts," Saki whispered sentimentally. Donatello remained silent. Who was his family? Was it simply the people who were related to him genetically? Or was it the people, regardless of age, race and, in his case, species, who were always there, even in the darkest of times? Don could feel his heart slow down considerably. He mulled over what he had learnt about both worlds. When it came to who his family was, he could only make one choice.

"I'm sorry," Donatello whispered. "My family needs me…"

There was a moment of silence. Stockman and April were unsure as to whether Don had meant those words, or if he had muttered them in his daydreams. "Danny?" Saki shook his son gently. Donatello didn't respond. "Danny?" Saki repeated, getting worried. The elderly man allowed himself to be pushed away as April and Stockman checked his vitals.

"He's gone…" April sadly announced.

"Gone? Gone where?" Saki worried.

"Gone back to his fantasy," Stockman answered, disappointed that he couldn't cure his patient.

* * *

Donatello gasped once again as Shredder continued to squeeze his shell. Unable to use his arms, Don had to commit himself to an unorthodox fighting style. Using all of his energy, Don sunk his teeth into Shredder's shoulder, wiggling his legs around at the same time in an attempt to kick his enemy's kneecaps, thighs or calf muscles. His frenzied attack worked, surprising Shredder into throwing him away. Don ripped through the air like a football, flying into the darkness of the room. He bounced off what seemed to be an operating table and like Mike had done before, he crashed into the shelving on the wall. Dazed, Don slowly moved to all fours, though through the thick of the darkness and smoke, he noticed something roll beside his hand. It must have just fallen from the shelf he crashed into. Curious as to why it hadn't been smashed, Don picked it up.

It was a plastic jar. A large lump of matter floated amongst a specially prepared fluid. Its label was small and precise. 'Na', it read. "Sodium," Don whispered to himself in awe as he recognised the chemical symbol. Ordinarily it wasn't anything special. Sodium was found in many products, and when combined with chlorine, it would form one of the most commonly known formulas; sodium chloride – otherwise known as salt. But this wasn't a compound or a mixture. This was pure sodium.

Excited, Donatello looked around the room, wondering what features that end of the lab held. He grinned when he found what he was looking for. Due to Occupational Health and Safety reasons, every laboratory had to be fitted with an emergency shower, sink and hose. Although Shredder didn't care about his employees, even he couldn't bypass the lawful building regulations. Scanning the rest of the room, a couple of permanent work benches stood further along, each featuring a couple of drawers and cupboards. Crawling with determination, Don made his way over. He moved aside the tripods and flasks he found in the cupboards, before pulling out a pair of forceps. Don grinned again; his plan was coming together nicely.

Opening the jar, Don pinched the large piece of sodium with the forceps and took it out. Standing up, he made a quick move towards the emergency shower area, grabbing onto the hose. "Hey Shredder!" Don called out. He got the villain's attention. "That last hit didn't hurt me at all!" Don boasted. Luckily Shredder didn't see him wince; shouting that loud hurt his lungs.

Shredder didn't reply. Like a machine he whisked towards Donatello. Watching his movements, Don could tell that the evil Utrom was aiming to grab onto him once again. Donatello broke into his own run, tugging the hose along with him. Surprising Shredder, the turtle dropped to the ground and skid along the floor on his carapace. He slipped right past the Shredder, ramming the hunk of sodium onto one of the blades of his shin guards. With a push of his free hand, he swiveled around, aiming the hose at the spot he dumped the sodium. In the corner of his eye he could see his brothers running up to help him. "Get down!" Don screamed, worried about their safety.

Thankfully his brothers listened. They dropped to the floor as soon as Don squirted the hose. The Shredder's leg violently exploded into flames when the water made contact with the volatile element. The fire was ferocious; engulfing Shredder's armour in large blue, yellow, red and orange flames. The fire Don had started before seemed nothing in comparison to what the Shredder was experiencing. The villain panicked, desperately looking for a way to extinguish the extensive and violent flames. Don knew that using water wasn't an option. Any chemistry student would know that pure sodium reacts violently and ignites when combined with water. Somehow he felt Shredder knew the same thing. The armour melted off, dripping onto the floor. The exo-suit's framework could be seen. Shredder started to run, unable to think of a solution. The turtles rolled out of his way as he scampered past them. Donatello couldn't believe what happened next.

It looked as though Shredder had just kept running until he ran out of ground. Like a giant fireball he leapt out of the hole in the wall, the same place where Don had contemplated suicide earlier. The turtles could only imagine what Shredder must have looked like from bystanders gazing upwards from ground level. Don wouldn't be surprised if people mistook the villain as an asteroid, falling from the sky and burning up on the way down. Fascinated and morbidly curious, all the turtles rushed over towards the hole and peered over the edge. A bonfire could be seen miles down, splattered onto the sidewalk. Silence settled between the turtles as they tried to let the facts sink in.

They had defeated the Shredder.

Some movement caught Raph's eye. "Oh no you don't!" the turtle called out as he grabbed onto Dr Chaplin as he tried to retreat. "Where's the ingredients for the antidote?" Raphael asked, starting back where he left off. Personally the turtle was surprised that Chaplin didn't have the guts to run away back when he had the chance. Instead the scientist had gaped stupidly at the entire battle.

"I, I have the antidote already made. It's over there," he fearfully pointed towards a particular drawer located on the opposite side of the room. Mike searched where he was told and found a filled syringe a few seconds later, holing it up for all to see. It seemed Dr Chaplin was telling the truth. After what he witnessed happening to Shredder, he was more than happy to oblige.

"Thanks," Raph smirked. With no warning he delivered a solid punch to Chaplin's face, causing the man to drop to the floor in unconsciousness.

"Raph!" Leo complained at his brother's behaviour. Raphael gave him a blank look. "Ah, forget it," Leo gave up. After everything that had happened, even he wanted to hit Chaplin. "Come on, Don. Let's finish this," Leo commanded softly. Donatello eyed the syringe as Mike walked towards him.

"You know… I feel like I don't need this anymore. I think I'm cured," Donatello honestly admitted.

"Yeah? Well we're not taking any chances," Raph grunted.

"But what if Chaplin lied? What if the needle is infected? What if it causes stronger illusions?" Don warily questioned.

"After seeing my boss explode, heck, I reckon I'd be telling the truth!" Raph explained.

"Just take it, Don," Leo advised, his words only filled with kindness. Obeying his family's wishes, Don calmly watched as Mike administered the antidote, carefully injecting it into his upper arm.

"All done!" Mike grinned.

"So, uh, I hoped you thought of a way to get out of here. Or was going crazy and committing suicide your escape plan?" Raphael asked. Although it may have sounded harsh, Don knew that it was just his way of being funny. It was hard for his brothers to offend him; Don just knew them too well.

"No, I thought of a way out," Don settled his family's nerves. He walked over to where he had dumped the backpack earlier, though now it was slightly singed from the heat of the flames. The fire had quieted down considerably after running out of easily flammable materials. Overall the damage wasn't bad; it was just the type of fire that produced a lot of smoke making it seem worse than what it was. Flames still burned, though they were merely flickers of light in the darkened room, lining the edge of the large hole in the wall. The wire they had slid down earlier was still there, though it was a little worse for wear. Leonardo gave the line a tug, and while it seemed a little melted, it still seemed strong.

"Take one of these," Donatello instructed. He each handed his brothers a solid metal triangular clip that looked like it could be attached to their harnesses.

"What's this?" Mike questioned.

"If you clip it onto the wire, the gears will allow you to travel in one direction only; they lock up if you attempt to go backwards," Don explained.

"So if we equip ourselves with one of these, we can pull ourselves along the wire without having to worry about sliding downwards?" Leonardo wondered, though it was mixture of both a rhetorical question and a statement.

"That's right!" Don grinned.

"Oh man! We have to climb back up that thing!" Mike whined. This time Raph was too tired to slap him upside the head.

"It's great to have you back, Donny," Leonardo sincerely said, staring at his brother.

"It's good to be back," Donatello agreed.

* * *

As the turtles climbed back over to the office building they had originally broken into, thirty-three stories below them a body burned on the pavement. Foot ninjas dressed as policemen guided the public away from the amazing spectacle. With a heavy fire blanket, Karai covered the burning parts of her master's suit. Extinguishing the flames, she lifted the blanket off and inspected the damage. The shiny metal armour had either been melted by the heat, or shattered and crumpled by the fall. But with the torso being the most protected part, there was still hope yet.

Karai's eyes flickered with relief when some movement was seen. The little red Utrom pushed open the door and weakly climbed out of his machine's chest compartment.

"Are you alright, Master?" Karai asked as she gently picked him up.

"I'm fine," Shredder reassured her, his voice defiant. "Those turtles will never defeat me!" The Utrom gave his most loyal servant a very sadistic grin, just ecstatic that he would live to fight the turtles some other day.

_The End._

A/N: Well, I guess that's it! So much for this being a short fic --! Anyway, I hoped you enjoyed it and thank you all for your support, whether that be through answering my questions during my planning phase, or through your reviews. Thanks once again!


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